The most wonderful time of year.

It’s that time of year again. That merry time where everyone seems to be especially joyful and full of life. Red, green and all things festive fill up the spaces of our daily lives. It’s everywhere you go, Costco, HomeSense, the mall, the grocery store. That time of year where families gather together and according to their Facebook, all is perfect. The time for those yearly posts of #blessed. Just like that white chocolate mocha from Starbucks, it’s a sickly sweet time.

However, for those hurting, it can be too much. It’s an everyday reminder of everything that could have been. Whether facing loss, or illness, or dashed dreams, or all of the above, this time of year can come as a dagger to the heart.

I know this all too well.

The last five years have been just that for me. A dagger, piercing through what could be a joyous time, leaving me breathless. Gasping for air among this joy-filled extravaganza. It’s just too much.

But, as much as there’s a time for mourning and for sorrow, there is also a time for joy and for dancing. And redemption tells of this story.

This time around, I find myself excited for the holidays. It’s a strange switch of pace, because if I’m being completely honest, the holidays have always been difficult. My depression comes in seasons, and winter is a season where it makes itself at home, and has for many years.

But this year, things have remained light instead of dark, easy instead of heavy. It’s as unfamiliar as going to a foreign country for the first time. The language is new, the food is unfamiliar, and the customs seem strange. But for those living there, nothing is strange. It’s normal. And I imagine some of you fall into that bracket; the joy of the season is familiar and homey.

So this year, I put up my tree nice and early. I light it up almost every night and take in it’s soft glow, warming my heart - as corny as that sounds. To me it’s a reminder of new things. New seasons. It’s a reminder of the pain of the last few years, flowing into nearly a decade of struggle. It tells of redemption and grace. The grace to experience both joy and sorrow, all wrapped into one.

I’m currently reading a book by Hannah Brencher called Fighting Forward. In it she writes this, “Our darkness may not be pretty, but it is purposeful. It turns us into brave fighters who know how to haul others out with the power of our testimonies. You only really know the true power of light when you place it in the darkness.”

In order to have light, we must also have darkness. In order to know true joy we must also know sorrow. To know the gift of peace, we must experience some sort of fear.

In order for true redemption to take place, at some point something must break. Whether that be the reality of our humanness, living in a broken, fallen world. Or maybe it’s the dark trenches that mental illness can create. Or maybe it’s the loss of a loved one, whether to death or to the reality of disappointment - broken relationships.

I’m experiencing this redemption. The sweetness of joy after years of suffering. The incredible feeling of no longer feeling heavy, weighted down by the sorrows of my humanness. It’s true peace.

But may I be clear when I say it is only because of Christ. The true gift. The reason for the season. Yes, I did just say that.

For real though. It’s easy in the moments that are heavy to lose sight of our true north. I get it. If you would have talked to me a year ago, all I would have had to offer was my anger, my disappointment. My bitterness. And when you’re stuck in those feelings, it’s easy to forget that hope exists. I get it. Especially when it’s been years of struggle. Or a loss too great to even put words to.

My friend, whatever your story I can promise you that even in all of this, He is still good. He is gentle. As much as we may wish for an earthquake of a revelation, He comes in a whisper. And with all the distractions out there, it’s hard to hear Him.

But He’s there. Waiting. Patient, kind and loving.

So to you struggling in the darkness, I see you. I get it. I understand how painful and awful it can be. When we lose sight of hope, what is the point?

Hope is real though. As real as these words that you are reading. Hope is Jesus, the gift of God coming down as a man, but first as a tiny baby. Vulnerable, yet mighty. Yet holy.

‘Tis the season, right? My prayer is it serves as a reminder, just like my little tree reminds me, a reminder that a light is shining, piercing through the darkness. Maybe that light for you is just a pinprick, but it is there. I promise you.

So from my heart to yours, here’s to the season. A season of hope, a reminder that the story is not over. A season of joy, but true joy, not the loud kind of joy that’s in your face, but the joy brought on by the peace that surpasses all understanding.

And to you finding yourself able to celebrate what this time of year means, I see you, and I’m with you. May we celebrate together.

“For a child is born to us,
a son is given to us.
The government will rest on his shoulders.
And he will be called:
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
Isaiah 9:6 (NLT)