If Your Heart is a Bit Broken this Christmas

“Come, Thou long expected Jesus

Born to set Thy people free:

From our fears and sins release us,

Let us find our rest in Thee.”

– Charles Wesley

I tend to have big expectations.

I’ve spent the last thirty-three years learning how to temper those expectations with reality. This can be a beautiful piece of my personality, in that I am often considering how things could be better or recognizing the small tug on my heart—questioning if we’re missing something. Holidays are no different.

I have spent many a Christmas feeling a touch let down, a bit sad—sometimes heartbroken—for multiple reasons. There was the year I was nine. I wanted a new bike badly, but only my brother received one. I cried secretly. Later on, my mom held me, and I could see no one was trying to exclude me. I surely felt the heartbreak then, although for a superficial reason.

There were the years my parents fought constantly during the weeks leading up to Christmas, and the tension felt unbearable. I wished I could fix it for our family. I wanted desperately for peace to exist in our house, but it didn’t come–at least not real peace. Later, there were the Christmases after the divorce when it seemed we were all a bit numb, not quite sure what to do with our family in pieces.

Then there was the Christmas, during my freshman year in college, when I learned a dear friend from high school died in a car accident. The grief nearly split me. I spent Christmas day in shock, which later turned to anger.

If we were in a movie, the kind I sometimes love to watch in December, everything would be tied up in a pretty bow when Christmas day finally came around. But in our world of pain and brokenness, that’s not necessarily what we experience. This doesn’t discount the goodness of many other pieces of life. Yet most of us have some trouble reconciling what Christmas is “supposed” to be as we make our way in a world that is scarred and hurting.

I’ve learned, as I’ve grown and healed, that these moments of deep, bittersweet pain around Christmastime are an invitation. In a way, they are the truest representation of Christmas; our fierce need for a redeemer and the arrival of the one we have waited for.

It’s easy in our culture to get stuck on the manufactured idea of the holidays. The ones where everything looks flawless, the people get along, and the presents are exquisite.

When we consider how it really went down, how an unmarried teenage girl gave birth in a stable surrounded only by farm animals and her betrothed, and later shepherds (Matthew 18:25, Luke 2:16)—well, then Christmas makes me feel a bit more comfortable . I am confident Mary experienced God’s nearness and love as she went through the journey to birth Jesus. But it also makes me think of the courage she and Joseph would have needed on that night so many years ago, in the midst of what must have felt unbelievable.

I think, too, of each of our lives—some messier than others; some more broken than others; some more redeemed than others. Every single one of us can find something to hope in because of the birth of a baby born in a stable.

I have found that when I give myself permission to embrace my hope in the rescuer, born in Bethlehem so many years ago, my view of success and expectation for days like Christmas change. It transforms from a need for perfection and shiny stuff to a sacred nearness to the one who gives joy and sustenance in this life. It creates recognition of the deep hope for what is still to come.

This is where the most sweet of the bitter comes in. Christmas—and the arrival of the long-expected Jesus—is the perfect backdrop for the promise of all we’ve ever hoped for, and the courage to face the brokenness of this world.

Aundi Kolber loves Jesus, people, and stories. She has a goofy sense of humor, but may start a deep conversation within five minutes of meeting you. She is a professional counselor in Colorado. Her hope is to use her voice to talk about hard and beautiful things. Aundi blogs at bravelyimperfect.com.