My sister, Cari, woke up in the birthing center on Christmas. My new niece was born just 2 days before. My nieces Trinity and Kiara, and my nephew Skyler were home with dad, anticipating the arrival of mom. My brother-in-law made waffles and readied his kids to pick up mommy on Christmas morning. My sister brought life to my world, when death was all around. Her eyes were so full of hope when she had baby Aurora, which it spilled over into me. My little sister is my best friend, and I love her intensely.
Somewhere else in the States, my step dad was doing Christmas. Not sure where or with who. He told me that he would not be alone on Christmas, but did not tell me who he would be with or where he would be. I am assuming he spent it in Gilroy with his children and my half brother, Micah. Micah, the youngest of our blended family is torn between two families, his dad’s children and his mom’s. We were raised with Micah, but there is a definite distance between us of years, experience, belief and perception. I love him with a deep love that cannot be given or shown, as he and I are not close.
In Texas my brother, Eric, went into work. His wife and children were to spend Christmas without him. I am not sure what they did or how they compensated for daddy working. I have never met my niece or nephew and do not really know my sister-in-law. My brothers got married and had kids in the hardest time of our lives, and have not had the ability to go to Texas to see them. I see pictures and read posts on Facebook about their lives. I wish I were closer to my brother. He is just three years younger than I, but was only married 5 years ago. Most of his twenties were spent in school and the military, while I was raising 3 kids and learning how to be a mom. I love him dearly and hold him close to my heart.
My biological father has not spoken to me in almost 5 years. He has this notion that I did some harm to my brother, so he tells my aunts, and that I need to apologize to him. I am not sure why I should apologize to him for harming my brother, but my brother and I are building a relationship as married adults, who love each other and each other’s families. The last time I spoke to him was at the opening of my restaurant, when I, for the first time, told him he needed to take responsibility for the mistakes he made as a father and stop putting them on me. He told me to f**k off and walked out of the front door. I have not seen him or talked to him since. Not even when my mother died, the mother of his children was he able to humble himself and call his daughters to give us condolences. I am not sure what he does for Christmas. He has my brother and his kids to spend Christmas with, he has his step daughter that he adores to spend Christmas with, but 7 of his 9 grandchildren he does not even speak to. Christmas is my dad’s favorite time of year. Like my mom, it was the season that made them into saints, full of love and joy, they both meticulously crafted Christmas into a memory that would turn into a legacy for their children to carry on. I love my dad, and can’t understand why he does not love me in return. I cannot comprehend a man who cannot get past his issues to have a relationship with his grandchildren. It is if I lost my dad 5 years ago.
My mom is resting this Christmas. She was not making dozens and dozens of cookies for all the events she has and attends. She was not wrapping gifts or setting up her collection of nativity scenes. She was not getting her feelings hurt that her kids were all spread out and not at her house on Christmas. She was hurt that no one in her extended family invited her for Christmas at their house. She was not torn about going to her step children’s house, when her own children were not invited there. She was just resting this Christmas. Her worn body no longer had to carry the burden of guilt or shame or hurt or pain. She is resting with the One who is celebrated Christmas day. I love her and miss her.
I sat in the yellow chair at my sister-in-law’s house, this Christmas, pondering these things in my heart. I wonder how it has come to this; this place in my life where we are just floating, with no direction and no plan; trusting that somehow God is going to get us through this. I look around at my kids as they sit around the tree, oblivious of the struggles we face. Unaware of the depression their dad wakes up to every morning he does not have a job. Unaware of the battle I face every night I go to bed, unaware of the fact that we have only $9 in our unemployment account. They sit, patiently waiting for the shower of blessings that is about to cover them. I am blessed to be around family, who, have loved us through this. I am thankful that for Christmas, my mother-in-law gave us money for gas, so that we could be with them and my sister’s family.
There is an abundance of gifts under the tree. They spill out to the left and right of the tree with a circus of colors and sparkle that captures the eye. I made all of our gifts this year. I made things out of stuff we had around the house. Blocks of wood, old frames I painted, food I made, or recycled clothes made into something else. The abundance causes my husband to feel inadequate and overwhelmed. On Christmas Eve, when we watched my sister’s kids, at their house, we yelled and screamed at each other about that very thing. He spattered out how much he hates what Christmas has become and hates that he can’t buy gifts and hates that he is a 40 year old man, who has to depend on the charity of others. I yelled at him and told him that he is checking out and not engaging. I told him that it is not about him, that it is about our kids. He yelled back and told me that he is trying his best. He told me that he was suicidal and wanted to just be done with life, and now, at least he is just depressed. He kept saying, “I am trying my best. I am not even saying anything. I have not said one time this year how much I hate Christmas.” We stood in the kitchen of my sister’s house and he got teary eyed and said, “I am hurt by what was said about me by your family. I have forgiven them, but I know they think I am a lazy and worthless.” I stood quietly in the kitchen, with nothing else to say. I did not know my husband was in that state. He keeps it pretty well hidden from me, to ensure a level of stability in our home. My kids were unaware of our conversation that night. They have no indication of the level of intensity that goes on between Bill and me, in our attempt to hold our family together.
So Christmas morning, I sat in the yellow chair, processing the last year. We went from being homeless, to moving into a beautiful home just before Christmas last year. We spent Christmas alone for the first time in our lives, last year, and were blessed abundantly. My mom fought cancer; my sister got pregnant; my husband applied for lots of jobs and tried starting another business; my son went to public school and played on a winning football team; my middle son played football, coached by his dad; my daughter started to play soccer and I experienced some of the deepest healing of my life. My mom passed away, my sister gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby, my son went to a state championship game, Noah is finally learning in a way that benefits dyslexia, Carah finally has some friends that she loves and Bill and I are still married, after all the crazy we have been through.
We made it to today, Christmas. We made it! Paper started flying around the room, and I came back to the now of Christmas morning. My kids were excited about the gifts they had received and the thoughtfulness of people’s intent of how they gave. I began to open the gifts I had received and was delighted at the things that were now mine. I watched intently, as my family began to open their gifts, hoping they would like the things I made. They all seemed pleased and thankful for the time I spent making these treasures. We still had to go to my sister house and open gifts with them.
When we got to my sister’s house, a new baby sat on her lap. I felt overwhelmed at the responsibly of giving her the legacy of our mom. My sister opened the gift I had made for baby Aurora. It was a quilt. My mom always made baby quilts for each of her new grandbabies, but this baby would not receive that gift. I wanted to be sure that she experienced the same legacy that our other children had received. I was not as pretty or intricate as my mom’s quilts, but it was my best. My sister smiled at me and said she loved it. Then the other gifts were opened. My sister gave me my candlesticks, as she does every year; since she found out a tradition my dad started was not followed through on. She opened the frame I made for her with a pressed flower from my mom’s funeral and a page from the book of Proverbs, my mom’s favorite book in the Bible. The kids all opened their gifts with delight. Skyler and Trinity made their cousins a gift and Carah used her own money to buy them gifts. It was a sweet time of legacy and remembering. The kids went upstairs to play with their new things and Cari and I sat and talked. Our brother, Micah had sent an ornament for each of us, that was inscribed, “In Our Hearts Forever, Chris Schulte “Nana”, November 16th, 1952-September 11, 2011.” It was the last gift we opened, and it was the perfect way to remember her. She gave us all the legacy of Christmas trees and ornaments and cookies and family on Christmas. So when we hang the ornament on our tree, she will always be there, celebrating the legacy she gave us.
Merry Christmas
