I’m not going to my grandmother’s house. We live 2,000 miles and two airplanes from our families of origin.
There is something simple and beautiful about waking up in my own house with my immediate family on Christmas. Holiday travel, on the other hand, is expensive, delayed, stressful. It is also the only way we get to be together. More often than not, we choose to visit some other time. A sound decision. And still. I hate not being there. It’s different from the fear of missing out; I know what’s happening.
For over 30 years, we have gathered on Christmas Day at Aunt Sandy and Uncle Ed’s. There is a rowdy gift exchange, the usual banter of “are we stealing gifts this year?” followed by “but someone’s feelings might get hurt!” Yellow bag Lay’s potato chips, mandarin orange salad, stuffed shells smothered in the family red sauce. Shots of limoncello before dinner is served — late — because everyone is too busy talking and laughing. Later, an uncle will secretly don the family Santa suit, ring the doorbell, the children will sit on his lap, take a family photo, and everyone will sing “Jingle Bells.” This year will be different. Uncle Ed unexpectedly died in his sleep this fall. For years, my cousin Gina has offered to host. I wonder if this will be the last Christmas at Sandy’s.
My heart aches. I feel it every time the family is together and I’m not there. I know to expect it, but it feels different this year. Bigger.
You may go to your grandmother’s house. Maybe your house IS grandma’s house. Everyone may be there. Some may be missing.
Distance. Work. Estrangement. Conflict. Sickness. Chronic pain. Immunocompromised. Mental illness. Hospitalization or care facilities. Addiction. Incarceration or detention. Inability to cross borders.
At Christmas, we celebrate our God who crossed the border between human and divine. A baby born far from his family’s home and their original people. A child named Emmanuel, “God is with us” (Matthew 1:23), who grew into a man who wandered, prayed, taught, healed, was executed and rose from the dead, whose last words to his friends and followers were: “And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).
Even if we are apart.
Even if we are alone.
Even in death.
Emmanuel. God is with us.
