I ran across this poem today and it expresses my feelings this year so well. This originally looked like it would be the worst Christmas ever as I will have hugged and sent 3 kids off to new lands since August and they will not be home for Christmas. One got married and moved and isn't coming home for Christmas. Another is moving with her family to the opposite coast for several years for her hubs to finish grad school the week before Christmas and my baby is serving a 2 year mission for our church, so the only contact I have with him is through a weekly email on Monday and I get a phone call from him on Christmas and Mother's day. It's already hard enough that we also have a child that lives in Texas with 4 grandbabies that we hardly ever get to see. Thank heavens one child is still here so I can get hugs and a grandma fix now and then from him!!! I thought my heart would break at the thoughts of the emptiness in our home for Christmas and the fact that our traditions would not be able to happen because of all this, but instead, somehow my heart has been filled to overflowing with joy this year. I have found different ways to still do some of the traditions, maybe not on the exact day we usually do them and maybe not in the same way, but by reaching out and involving others, some of the traditions will continue. Others will be put on hold temporarily until the sweet day when we are all together again! Maybe this joy I feel is because I had nothing else to do but serve others and maybe it's the blessing of giving Christ my son for two years. Either way, as lonely as it seemed, this has been a most amazing Christmas season so far!
A MISSIONARY CHRISTMAS
I skipped the sales after Thanksgiving. The thrill just wasn’t there.
No pictures taken with Santa Claus. My decorating has no flair.
His presents are shoes, shirts, and ties, two suits and socks… no fun.
I’ve bought him all white clothes because this year I’m giving Christ my son.
I’ve spent more time in the temple, my testimony stirred.
I’ve re-read November’s Ensign, felt strength come from His words.
Our family prays more frequently. My tears are quick to run.
Abraham seems closer because this year I’m giving Christ my son.
I wonder how those Lamanite mothers gave their sons to war?
Or how the pioneers chose Zion—their sacrifice was so much more.
My loss will be his presence. I’ll miss his smile a ton.
For two years we will pray for him. I’m giving Christ my son.
I stare at his face when he’s not looking. I memorize his eyes, their shine.
He’s always hungered for the part of him, that makes his soul divine.
The stories and lessons he always heard. His choice and mine are one.
I’ll put my faith in God’s hand. This year, I’m giving Him my son.
Past gifts have lost their glitter. I think I finally understand
Christ’s birth should be celebrated by giving Him a hand.
It’s because I know Christ lives and reigns that all his packing’s done.
My gift has taken years to make. This year I’m giving Christ my son.
I know there’s One who understands the sacrifice I’m making.
Who knows the gift I willingly give, the toll it will be taking.
For He has done it all before. Greater love — there could be none.
For years ago God gave to me His only begotten son.
The hands I washed, the hands I held, the hands I taught to pray—
Now knock on doors to find the ones who will listen to what he’ll say.
Because I know Christ needs him until all the gathering’s done.
My gift has taken years to make. This year I’m giving Christ my son.
— Author Unknown
