I am writing about grief during this season of joy because it’s been 18 years since my mother died at Christmas and it’s about time.
The House That Love Built
Every year I unpack the log cabin Advent calendar my mother gave us when my oldest son was my only son. I wanted to bring a new holiday tradition to my own little – and soon to grow – family. After a year or so of punch-paper Advent calendars filled with waxy chocolates, a box arrived from one of those mail order specialty gift catalogs.
A Clueless Catholic Goes to Mass
I want very much to experience Advent as the spiritual – and for me, Catholic – journey it’s meant to be. It’s not just a chocolate countdown to Christmas.
Where Hope Lives
Pitch, I figured, was a great way to give myself a goal to produce a body of work. Being pressed up against a deadline works for me: The survival instinct kicks in and I write like hell to save myself from threats only a conspiracy of my imagination and inner critic could come up with.
On the fifth day of Christmas
I set out to have a specific experience this Advent season. I wanted to actually show up for the grief that comes with every Christmas like the nonsensical, stupid, not-funny joke gift that nobody should get stuck with at the Yankee Swap.
Epiphany: Unexpected Gifts
This Advent and Christmas season also brought me unexpected gifts every day, or as the little Advent book refers to it, “evidence of God’s grace.”
Raye S. Leonard 