Childhood Memories–Both Good and Bad (Holiday Misery Part 2)

This entry is part 2 of my new blog series on things that tempt us to be miserable during the holidays. I’ll start with a quick recap of what we’ve covered so far and then jump into today’s topic.

1. Comparisons: We live in a world of competition and performance, even (tragically) in the church. No one wants to look ugly, sound stupid, or be a relational flop … It doesn’t matter how much we have or what blessings our lives contain. If we do not guard our hearts, the holidays will tempt us to compare ourselves with others and focus on what we perceive as the lack. But it doesn’t have to be this way … (Click here to read the entire post.)

2. Childhood Memories–Both Good and Bad
Of all of the reasons people give for why they boycott the holidays or dread the holidays, childhood memories have to be right up there in the top ten. For some of us, this means painful childhood memories. For others, it’s the idyllic / romanticized childhood memories that haunt us. But again, we’re adults. In Christ, we are new creations. We don’t have to be ruled by our past hurts or by our present disappointments. We really can be content and even joyful—but it takes a little work to get there.

Let’s start with the painful childhood memories. The bottom-line of what we need to do today so that our present holidays are not soiled and spoiled by the past is that we need to do what my first book (Peacemaking Women) says:

Feel it. Name it. Grieve it. Entrust it to God. And move on.

Do you see how this will take a little effort? We cannot grieve what we have not identified (felt and named). And some of us really don’t want to “go there” and even think about our childhood memories, more or less process them on a deep level. But this is what we are called to do. This is what faith looks and feels like. We don’t run away from the darkness; we are not defined by our pasts. Instead, we bring the light of God’s Word (and the Light of the Word Made Flesh) into our dark places and we apply all of that good theology we study so hard to the real experiences of our real lives.

Listen! God is sufficient. He is not unaware of your pain. He was not absent then and He is not absent now. He did care and He does care—so much so, that He sent His only Son to suffer and die to make it right. There is an end to your tears. If you allow yourself to weep, you will not weep forever. You can grieve as one who has hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13)! You can trust God. And then you can move on.

Maybe “moving on” for you will mean that you take a season of quiet where traditional holiday celebrations simply aren’t a good fit for you because you’re not ready. (For years, I had the traditional Thanksgiving frozen pizza in a sort of quiet demonstration against the stresses of Thanksgivings in my young years. But now we have a simple traditional meal that is genuinely pleasant for me.) Or maybe you will choose to eschew holiday traditions for the rest of your life. That’s great if that’s your choice—the most God-glorifying, loving-of-neighbor, wise choice. But don’t use your childhood as an excuse. Your not a child anymore. You have resources beyond yourself. You don’t have to be defined by your past. Grieve as one who has hope. Entrust it to God. And move on.

(BTW—I found this blog post on grieving and forgiving that you may want to review if this topic is striking any chords with you.)

Let me close with just a few words for those of you who have what may appear to be the opposite problem: your childhood memories are so sweet and safe and lovely that your present circumstances just can’t measure up. Your good childhood memories tempt you to present misery.

 Friends, this really isn’t the opposite problem. It’s the same problem, just chronologically varied. Rather than past suffering, you are facing present suffering. It could be profound (your first Christmas without your spouse / with your adult child living on the streets in addiction and untreated mental illness / with no job and no home and no financial security / deployed in a war zone / waiting for your loved one who is deployed in a war zone / facing that condemning one-line-not-pregnant-again-pregnancy-test). It could be simple (no tree  to decorate / no idea how to cook a turkey more or less make stuffing a three green side dishes / Christmas music just doesn’t sound as sweet / your trying hard to lose that unhealthy weight so you’re avoiding your favorite coconut cookies).

Maybe you are tempted to frustration and sadness because your purposeful, heartfelt efforts to be evangelistic and mercy-oriented just never seem to measure up to the ease and beauty of your mom and dad’s comfortable hospitality at the holidays. You try and try, but you just can’t make those gospel-proclaiming, happy memories as well as you’d like.

Here is a great opportunity to remember that we are frail creatures living in a fallen world. We all have strengths and weaknesses; gifts and areas in need of growth in grace. None of us is perfect. None of us is good at everything. That’s OK! We don’t have to be defined by even the good things in our pasts. We can be defined by Christ alone. Christ within us. God delighting over us because He has called us and saved us and made us His own.

Yes, we can grow. I use the glue gun now without any anxiety! (Christmas crafts were, for many years, absolutely paralyzing to me. Little styrofoam balls and gingham scraps and fuzzy feathers that transformed into snowmen and angels and who knows what else? I mean, come on! This is WAY. TOO. HARD. It totally freaked me out. But not any more. I’m still not very good at crafts, but there’s progress.) We can integrate ideas and happy memories into our present holiday celebrations. But we don’t have to live for them. We can enjoy, but we don’t have to be devastated when real life doesn’t live up to the Folger’s Christmas commercial / Currier & Ives script.

Real life is messy and complicated. This is why we need a robust doctrine of suffering and a robust doctrine of God. Then, we can act (with intentionality, love, and faith) rather than react to something from years, if not decades, ago.

Amen & Amen?

I really hope your holidays this year can take a few steps away from past memories—and that you can make new memories; memories that have great hope and great peace.

Praying for you!

With much love,
Tara B.

[A re-post from 2012]