Flashback

Adolescent reflection at age 17:

“To say that one is wholly and undeniably happy is to lie.  For how are we, such shallow beings, to determine those things which have gone to the utter depths of our souls and left them scarred with sorrow?  Does not every singular happening that we perceive affect us?  There is no way to sort those affectations into bundles and say which ones we shall one day be forced to recall- and regret!  Did not God impart to each of us a bit of himself?  It may be so encumbered by human actions and thoughts that it is quite unable to be seen.  But it is there, even so.  Because of this fiber of deity in each of us we must take care to protect our own selves from injury whenever possible and avoid those things which might seek to harm- knowingly or not- this inner self.”                      2/18/1971  CCB  (Cathy Charlene Boyd)

Today, December 29, 2021:

This season I discovered part of the power of human kind’s annual winter season celebrations…. which, for me, in my cultural worldview, is Advent and Christmas.

People need to gather, rest, remember, reflect, and reconnect regularly.  It is therapeutic. It is bonding. It connects us to one another and also, if our families are especially blessed, such gatherings can connect us to God. And though there may be many expressions of love in the gifts, laughter, feasting, and fun, there are also minefields, or mind-fields that can have an explosive impact on the festive atmosphere.

These mind-fields map the source of and are the windows into some of the soul-scars that are hidden in the midst of every person and family.  Therein lie the destructive mines planted by the devil in the depths of our souls,  like depth-charges waiting to be innocently bumped or maliciously triggered by those circumstances the devil will use at an “opportune time”, as described in Luke 4:13.  And in those mind-fields also lie our hope for healing…..especially at Christmas.  That hope is in our relationship with God in Jesus Christ.  It is at Christmas that we will most frequently hear again and again, as the roadside emotional IEDs explode, that God is, and always will be, with us.

I experienced it this Christmas like never before and, while it was very emotionally destabilizing, it has led to an abundance, a treasure trove, of awakened self-awareness and insight into how God works redemptively to bring about healing for those who love him and are called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28).

Hebrews 12:2 calls Jesus the “author and finisher” of our faith. In my journey I have thought of Jesus as trailblazer, guide, and the one who awaits me at the end of the journey…..ever present and ever providing what I need to get through it all.  This Christmas God has, once again, reminded me of that truth.

The first three weeks of Advent I determined to put my heart into focusing on devotional activities and festive events I could attend. I was thinking I would somehow avoid the holiday blues of doing my first Christmas at home alone.  Last year, just months after Bill’s death, family whisked me off to North Carolina for a family vacation  it was beautiful and fun.  But it seems I was still going to have to face that holiday “first”, even if it was the second Christmas, 16 months later, instead of the first one after Bill’s death.

Christmas week began with excitement, anticipation, hopefulness, and joy.  Then several rapid-fire events brought stresses that stripped me of the thin veneer of peacefulness I had sought and prayed to maintain.  I found myself on Christmas Eve morning feeling a bit trembly inside, without really understanding exactly why.  As I ran a couple of last minute errands, I had a sudden remembrance of Christmas morning when I was four years old.  I had gotten a baby doll with fine straight short blonde hair.  My family had gone to my aunt and uncle’s house about twenty miles away.  We went in their house.  I remember going over to a gas heater in the living room to get warm. In a brief moment I saw my baby doll’s hair on the back of her head melt, shrivel up, start smoking and turn black.  I remember screaming in horror. I had remembered that incident before, but never so powerfully.  Suddenly, I felt like that terrified four year old again,  It came from somewhere deep in me and brought tears to my eyes.  I cried and thought to myself, “What do I do with this?”   I realized I didn’t remember anything else about the day. Maybe if I called my Mother she’d remember the rest of the story that was lost to me.  How did I get through that?

About twenty five years into our marriage my Mother had given me a small vintage Christmas card in a frame.  It had a little girl with dark hair and a ribbon in her hair wearing a dress, holding a baby doll and standing by a fireplace. It was a lovely card but it made me vaguely uncomfortable.  Why this gift? Why now?  As I sat in my car in tears I thought to myself, “How will I feel if I ask Mother and she doesn’t remember something that seemed so painful to me at the time,…. painful  enough to evoke tears at the sudden remembrance of it sixty-three years later?”  I mentally rolled my eyes and thought, “Mom’s eighty-five years old.  How can I expect her to remember such a thing, and especially the ‘what happened next’ of it?”  That, caused me another momentary grief, to think I was alone in the memory of a childhood grief with no answers about how I got through it.  In that split second I felt God speak tenderly and quietly in my spirit, “Does it matter? I am here.”  Now more tears….. and laughter!  Tears of relief and the sudden realization, “God is with me in this moment of remembering sorrow and God was with me then!  It doesn’t matter, Lord.  I give the memory of this event and the pain it has hidden in me to you.”   Then I felt a lightness of spirit and it seemed I had faced  something significant…… and God is with me!

I have known the feeling of being emotionally ambushed by some unexpected experience in the moment…. and, also, of a memory of something that can arise seemingly out of nowhere and tackle me  with brute force, throwing me not just off balance but face-planted on the ground.

After a while I thought, “Okay, now that I’ve felt it, faced it, and given these feelings and thoughts to God, I think I’ll call Mom, since I do still have her available, just to ask.”  So I did. It wouldn’t matter whether or not she remembered.  God had settled that.  I could still ask her.

“Hi, Mom.  Do you have time for a little trip down memory lane?”   “Well, I guess, where are we going?”, she asked.   “Not a trip going somewhere, Mom.  I want to ask you if you can help me remember something.” She chuckled, “I don’t know. What is it?”   “Mom, do you remember giving me a little vintage Christmas card in a frame of a little girl holding a doll by a fireplace?”  “No, I don’t remember that,” she said.  “Why?,” she asked.   “I was just remembering the Christmas I was four and had gotten a babydoll with straight blonde hair.  We had gone to aunt Evelyn’s house that morning and I got too close to the gas heater and her hair burned.  Do you remember that?”   Pause.  She responded slowly and quietly, “I do.”   I said, “Mom, I remember seeing the doll’s hair melt, shrivel, smoke and turn black.  And I remember screaming.  What happened after that, Mom?  I can’t remember anything else about that day.”   She said, “All of us went to Granny Boyd’s house for lunch.  Everyone was playing with their new toys snd dolls and you just stood around looking sad.”  (Maybe I was in shock?)   I asked what happened to the doll?  She said she had told me she was going to send it back to Santa and it was going to be repaired.   She said she had gone to the hardware store on the town square in Cuthbert, Ga, where we lived, and she had gotten me another one like it.  I don’t remember comfort, reassurances, getting a replacement doll, or ever playing with that doll again….. just the image and smell of burning plastic doll  hair and screaming.  She said she was sorry I had that experience and that she and Daddy had comforted me and were quick to see that my Christmas was rescued with another doll as quickly as possible.  We had a laugh over the phone at children’s traumas and how parents are often at a loss to know what to do to comfort a hurting child…… at any age.  I remembered 2 Corinthians 1:3-5