Well Friend,

It has been a minute since I have been able to sit down and write! I hope you are doing well and finding joy in the upcoming holiday season. I want to talk about the years I hated Christmas and how that has changed for the better. Maybe it will help you if you are struggling with feeling festive because of loss or sadness.

Holidays are Hard

There was a time I looked at the holidays with dread. I had lost my only son to preterm labor on December 21, 2020. The event of his loss was surrounded by red and green decor, family gatherings, Christmas cookies and a beautiful tree…so whenever I saw those things, they reminded me of saying goodbye to the one I loved the most.
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His funeral was held the day after Christmas with family. Those who could sang a trembling “Silent Night” at the service. We buried his casket in a beautiful spot on my parent’s farm that overlooked the valley shrouded in winter fog. When we stood silently at his tombstone, the full river roared in the distance, and fat, little birds darted around in the empty trees above. It was very restful. His tombstone read, "Our Precious Son, Jeremiah King Smith, December 21, 2020. Raised up to the King.” That Christmas was unbelievably difficult as we felt grief we didn’t know existed.
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The Christmas a year after his death was even harder. My husband and I visited his tombstone in the rain and stood in the mud with flowers in our arms. We missed him so much. I wanted to fall asleep at Thanksgiving and wake up New Years. Other people’s happiness reminded me how I used to be and probably would never be again. Everything reminded us of our loss.
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The next year we thought our Christmas would be redeemed and felt so thankful for God’s mercies. I was pregnant with twin boys who were due the same day we lost our son. What a miracle! We named them Marshall and Coulter. Maybe Christmas would finally be bearable again! But in a horrific incident, and after a four day battle, I also lost the boys at five months gestation on August 7, 2022. I didn’t know anything could be worse than burying one child, but burying two at the same time was even harder. Christmas that year was torturous. I dreaded December 21st for months.
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That year, I watched A Christmas Carol and sympathized with Scrooge. I didn’t go to any Christmas parties. I thought I would never celebrate Christmas ever again. I was bitter and enraged at God. I had loved him because I thought he was going to give me my sons, but instead he took them all. So I hated Him instead.
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Another gravestone was added to our plot. We buried the twins perfect bodies together and on the tombstone wrote, “Our Perfect Twins ...Until we hold you again.” But I wasn’t sure I would be invited into Heaven to hold them anymore.
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Everyone around us celebrated their Christmases like normal, but inside I was as dead and gray as the winter trees. I knew I would never enjoy it again.
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At least…that’s what I thought.

The Reason for the Season

That year the cocoon stage of my faith transformation started to crack open and I started to crawl out. God told my heart that if he had hated me like I was convinced he did, he never would have sent his son to die for me. As a loss mom who knew the agony of holding my lifeless sons, I knew no God would ever sacrifice their only son unless he truly loved me. It made me start to love him back.
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I started to heal. Spiritually. Then emotionally and mentally. My theology changed drastically from sight based to faith based. From merit based to grace based. From me based to God based. Instead my rage gradually died into gratitude; gratitude for the cross and all it meant. I stopped basing my love for God on what he gave me in my life and started loving him for what he gave me in his death.
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When that Christmas came around, I was in this process of shifting my faith foundations. I attended my first Christmas party and was a true grinch. But at least I went! I listened to Christmas songs that year, and Isaiah and I went to Hobby Lobby and bought hundreds of dollars worth of Christmas decor because we were determined to try to celebrate. We hung up three little stockings for our boys on the fireplace. I ironed their initials onto the red fabric. We did a good job working through the holidays.
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But by the next year after that, I had grown to the point where it wasn’t a chore to celebrate Christmas. I wanted to do it. I could celebrate Christmas because my basis for loving God was no longer built on him giving me my sons. I loved him for giving me HIS son. And while Christmas still reminded me of my losses, it also reminded me of his Priceless Gift the angels sang about. Someone no one can take away. Christmas gave me so much joy because Christ was born today.
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That Christmas we went up to the boys’ graves and saw lights twinkling through the trees. My sister and mother had bought beautiful garlands, bows and lights and had decorated our little cemetery with love. A ceramic Jesus stood in the corner with his arms outstretched over the boys like he was welcoming them home. Their beautiful gesture made us wish we had brought more Kleenexes.
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At my church’s Christmas service, Isaiah and I were scheduled to sing a special. I wanted to sing one that I had written for the boys. Before we sang, I told everyone through loud sobs muffling the mic, that “Christmas had been good this year.” We still loved our sons and missed their presence, but we found joy in the son of God and his presence in our lives. It made all the difference in the world.

The Song we Sang

Next email will probably be in early December. I want to give you the Christmas song I wrote for the boys in one of those really hard Christmases. It’s a rewritten but well known Christmas carol that is connected to my own emotional back story. My church gave this piece a standing ovation, and when I went to the bathroom to cry afterward I saw it was full of other women doing the same thing! It means a lot to us. So stay tuned for that release in the coming weeks so you can also share it with the people you love.
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May you all have a beautiful holiday season, finding thankfulness in the cross of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
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Blessings to you all,

Amanda Joy Smith

Composer and Producer | Songs from the Valley

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