It’s the first Christmas without her. Our first holiday season as a family of three. {Well, really a family of 4 instead of 5, because we know our little Annie B rules this roost.} This time of life is filled with many unwanted and unexpected firsts without our sweet Jane/mama.
Today is also my first time back in church. I know. It doesn’t seem like me. I’ve found the Lord in other ways, but for some reason, I haven’t been able to step back in the sanctuary. I’ve worshipped at a Hillsong concert, singing so many of the songs that were my battle cry throughout the toughest years of my life. I’ve listened to testimonies of people living their life for Christ in the everyday on Annie F. Downs podcast “That Sounds Fun”. Somehow her compassionate questions and the real-life stories of people being absolutely broken or confused about God and then seeing His resurrection power in the big moments and small details brings peace to my heart more than a sermon right now.
I know Him. I love Him. I’ve given my life and heart completely to Him. But right now, I’m disillusioned by Him. I’m confused. I’m worn out, and I’m plain sad.
I spent many of the nights of the last few years declaring that God has power over cancer. That my circumstances are not my Lord, Jesus Christ is, and it doesn’t matter what the tests reveal or what the doctors say; He is the God of miracles. I’ve sat under the teaching of the Word of God and believed with my whole heart that His victory over cancer would occur on this side of Heaven.
In all honesty, I’m tired, and it feels like we lost the battle. I know Jesus won the war over death, and He brings life eternal. But in my world, it felt as though the years of battling in faith and prayer came up short.
I know they didn’t. I know the ultimate glory is that my mom is with Him, and one day, I will be too. But she’s not here, and that is excruciating for this 24-year-old who misses her best friend.
So tonight, I didn’t know what to expect of this first Christmas Eve service without her.
In true Ellie fashion, I entered the traditional Presbyterian ceremony in bright white boots and a L O U D colored jacket. As I climbed the steep steps, I kept turning to Mary Claire regretting the “statement” I would inevitably be making as I walked through the doors. She reassured me that my choices were fine and that we would just sneak in the back! In what can only be true of the Boline life, we entered to the news that the seats were filled, so we would be escorted to sit in the choir seats right on stage. Perfect. Not ideal for someone trying to quietly tuck in the back. So, me and my bright whites marched up the aisle with my dad and sister, and somehow, we were the ONLY three to sit front and center in everyone’s view behind the podium.
I can just imagine my mom giggling and shaking her head at the sight. Only us. I turned to my sister and told her, “gosh, these people probably think I’m some sort of heathen… little do they know!” We both laughed and prepared ourselves to be the background of every photo taken throughout the service.
As I sat there, the weight of this building fell on me. It was my first time back in church. It was the first time back in this building in Highlands, NC where I’ve sat with my mom. It was the first time singing my mom’s favorite traditional hymns since her memorial service.
We stood (with everyone watching!) to sing the first hymn, “O Come, All Ye Faithful”. We sang, “Sing, choirs of angels; sing in exultation; sing all ye citizens of heaven above! Glory to God, all glory in the highest.” And as we sang that third verse, I lost my breath.
This was also my mom’s first Christmas in Heaven. It’s the first Christmas that she’s singing in the presence of the baby who was in a manger. It’s her first Christmas that she can see the Glory. It’s her first Christmas basking in the light that is His resurrection power. It’s her first Christmas that she can more deeply sing praises of gratitude that His suffering on the Cross of Calvary made a way out of hers in cancer. It’s her first Christmas that she can see with her own two eyes that His plan is good, even when my perspective is limited on this side.
I think of how we’re singing the same song to the same Savior who was born in Bethlehem. I think of how I would have written the story of the birth of the King of Kings differently. I probably would have chosen a fancy palace. A birth without pain for Mary. A celebration with the entire nation who would know him to be the Savior of the world.
I wouldn’t have chosen the Virgin Mary, ridiculed for her pregnancy, because she was unmarried. I wouldn’t have chosen the manger. I wouldn’t have chosen to be surrounded by the animals.
I would’ve written my story differently too. I wouldn’t choose the suffering of cancer. I wouldn’t choose losing my mom at this age. I wouldn’t choose this life for me, my sister, my dad, and the rest of our grieving family and close friends.
But, none of the story of Jesus’s life looked perfect and flashy (like my favorite coat!), and still His purpose to save the world from the separation from our Heavenly Father was accomplished.
In a season of life where I am struggling to hold onto hope that His promises are coming, this is the deep hope I grip tightly in my heart. Christ’s life on Earth is evidence of His goodness, kindness, and holiness. But it didn’t look pretty, it wasn’t without suffering, and even He asked the Father to let this cup pass from Him.
He brought the resurrection life through that baby in a manger. He made a place for my mom in Heaven on that brutal cross, even though my understanding says it’s too soon. And I will meet her there again one day. I will be a citizen of Heaven above singing to my Savior alongside my mama.
He is the light and hope of the world, even when it’s dark and desperate.
Have a Merry Christmas. Especially you, mama, in your first as a citizen of Heaven.
xoxo
ellie
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