Protect Your Peace
On Christmas Eve 2012, ten years ago, I begun miscarrying my second baby. It was a defining year of adjusting to newly married life and navigating grief and loss.
The evening before, I was released from the hospital after confirming the heartbreaking news and wondering how I would get through the next couple days of festivities when I was so weary, sad and physically and emotionally drained.
Internally I felt so much pressure to carry on, not so much to act as if nothing happened, but nevertheless to participate in annual traditions. To be fair, all our family has always been so supportive and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Truthfully, all I wanted and needed to do was rest and sob in my bed as besides the grave emotional distress, the physical process can be excruciating- think mini labour, but your body is so tense because every fibre of your being is trying to hold on to your baby which exasperates the pain. Every miscarriage I had came with horrible symptoms, but the heartbreak was by far the worst.
I say all this not because I am bitter or angry or resentful, but because I recollected afterwards that I had failed to protect my peace. It’s perfectly understandable to want to miscarry in private and in the comfort of home. Those who call Jesus Lord celebrate His birth as a holiday of hope, peace and joy. Annually I find myself meditating on the lyrics of “Oh Holy Night” where it goes, “… a thrill of hope the weary world rejoices.” The very first Christmas, the world was in a weary state, yearning for their long waited Messiah. I imagine I am not the only one who has spent the holidays during a season that isn’t all merry and bright.
So what does protecting our peace look like? I think for everyone that looks different. Perhaps it’s streamlining activities. Maybe it’s simplifying and letting go of the mirage of a “perfect Christmas” and choosing meaningful moments and memories over magic. Who really wants to be like Clark Grisworld in “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” who fumes and festers when things go awry? If family is toxic, abusive, and/or unhealthy, protecting peace could mean opting to spend the season with friends who are family. It could be as simple as ordering Chinese takeout as the thought of preparing a large feast is stress-inducing.
Whatever it is, I hope we all can truly have a peaceful holiday season. And if everything isn’t merry and bright, remember that’s perfectly okay.
Protecting my peace looks like settling on my third batch of Almond Moon Cookies and not attempting a fourth time. Perfectionism be damned!
This year, I really wanted to recreate my Nana’s almond moon crescent cookies particularly for my mom, her daughter. My nana has been gone for eight years and she had slowed down in her backing some years prior to that. Unfortunately, my Nana mostly memorized her recipes and they left when she did. These can never replace hers, but it’s a meaningful and nostalgic to way to incorporate her in the festivities. Next time, I am going to chill the dough to prevent spreading, but these are melt-in-your-mouth delicious as is.
