I wasn’t ready for Christmas.
You wouldn’t have guessed it, judging from the two bulging suitcases I dragged up to the ticket counter. I was flying up Northwest to spend my first holidays with future-in-laws, to get introduced as “the girlfriend” to the family clan.
The mission was strategically planned for a quick in and out trip. Just four days. You’d be proud. I was cramming in outfits, presents and shoes, like a rabid gamer of luggage Tetris. Don’t tell me there aren’t snow storms in Washington. I was prepared.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the storm that swirled inside my heart, tearing me down where no one could see.
I wasn’t ready for Christmas because my own family was torn apart from decades of unresolved drama. My dream of a Merry Christmas with my childhood family and my grown-up love slipped through my fingers. It was definitely gone.
Dreams At Christmas
We all dream at Christmas. We’ve been taught from early on that this is the happiest time of the year. What if it turns out that it’s the saddest?
It’s the most painful feeling to carry, when you have a hole in your heart and everything screams, Be of good cheer.
I woke up every morning that Christmas season, believing in miracles, waiting for everything to be alright…
(To be continued…)
…To read the rest of my story and see what happened next – click here and jump over to DaySpring’s (In)Courage website, where today’s post is published.
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