The One You Can Rely On

The holidays can be lonely. If family is far away–and sometimes even if they’re nearby–the whole season can loom like a spectre, inducing feelings of overwhelm. If you’re experiencing any kind of loss, separation, financial strain, or personal stress, all the preparing and shopping and cooking and traditions can easily lose their shimmer, lose their joy.

We haven’t gone home (home being Michigan, where most of our extended family lives) for the holidays in three years. Two years ago we moved halfway across the country over Thanksgiving weekend. Last year we had a newborn. This year work is taking my husband overseas for the holidays, so the girls and I are staying put. The thought of traveling alone with them on potentially snow-covered Midwestern roads gives me instant anxiety.

Local friends keep telling me, “Let us know if we can do anything for you.” I finally said to one of them, “You know, it’s not the house and the grocery shopping and the yard that will be difficult. I can handle those things. It’s the mental and emotional piece that will be challenging.” This is the crux, isn’t it? In such times, more than a need for physical help, it’s a sense of aloneness that threatens to overtake.

We do have some family planning to visit–my parents will be here for Thanksgiving, and others may come later in the season, but the bulk of our days will be spent quietly, just the three of us girls, tearing links off the paper countdown chain my preschooler is assembling.

How will we cope? By shoring ourselves up with cozy traditions and lots of activity at home. Of course my one-year-old will likely just go with the flow, but my sensitive older girl is already anticipating out loud how much she’s going to miss her dad. As a result, I’ve gone into planning mode a bit early this year: an afternoon tea and cookie exchange for our small number of local friends, a stack of special recipes set aside for us to cook or bake together, Christmas craft projects and homemade gifts to make, our first artificial Christmas tree ordered from Balsam Hill last weekend, holiday booklists all ready for the library, preparations for Santa.

The hardest time of day, I know, will be after my littles are tucked into bed at night. I know I’ll be weary, and I know I’ll feel alone.

But I won’t really be alone.

God is here.

I can open up my Bible and find him in its pages.

I can quiet my racing thoughts and find him in the silence.

I can walk outside, look up, and find him in the night sky he created.

God is here.

He’s the one you can rely on.

When you feel disconnected from family and friends, when the weight of worldly concerns feels unbearably heavy, when your emotions threaten to drown you in an internal storm, God is here.

Emmanuel, they called him. God with us.

He is here.

I’m looking forward to both Thanksgiving and Advent eagerly this year because more than ever, I need to acknowledge the ways God has blessed me, and I need to celebrate the way he came to earth to join us in our ordinary days, our unremarkable trials, our humanness. I know I will need to be reminded that I am both richly blessed and not alone. Maybe you need the same thing?

Come, Emmanuel. Hold us fast. 

“If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.” (Ps. 139:8-9 NIV)

Harmony Harkema has loved the written word for as long as she can remember. A former English teacher turned editor, she has spent the past seven years in the publishing industry. A novelist and blogger in the fringe hours of her working mom life, Harmony also has a heart for leading and coaching aspiring writers. Harmony lives in Memphis with her car-loving husband and two small daughters. She blogs at harmonyharkema.com.

Photograph © Harmony Harkema, used with permission

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