This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Good Year blimp.
The official anniversary date is June 3rd., when the first blimp, filled with hydrogen, lifted into the air. Six weeks later the blimp made its first ascent to the sky filled with helium. Its name? Pilgrim.
As we watched the golf tournament Sunday, I heard the announcer say something I needed to hear. It was in regard to the amazing life-span of this innovative, 20th century feat—“Look up and drive forward.” It reminded me of the encouragement my golf coach gave me years ago, “forward is good.”
I share all this because a significant event happened in my life last week that brought unexpected sadness.
Since my Mom passed in 2012, we have been property managers for her various places. Last week we sold the last property that held the longest memories for me.
Grand Opening circa 1961My 2nd birthday, circa 1961
The property was purchased in 1960. My parents built their dream—a 3,000 square foot building to house their neighborhood pharmacy with a barbershop next door.
Soda fountain circa early 60’s
Our family life was built around all the took place within those four walls. My dad served tirelessly the neighbors who became friends. He provided many medicines for free to those who didn’t have the money for their sick child. He did what was right and the people loved him for it.
My Dad ❤️
As I sat on the bare floor last week for the last time, all the memories came rushing back. Voices from the last 65 years were heard laughing at my dad’s jokes. Hamburgers sizzling on the grill for hungry patrons were constant. Children crying because they wanted candy and were told, “no”! Customers that I “rang out” at the cash register—my first job as a teen. So many precious memories.
What I didn’t expect was to feel fresh grief over the passing of my Mom (2012), Dad (2004) and brother (2021). The selling of this property felt as if I was letting go of the only thing we shared together growing up.
When I heard the motto of the Goodyear blimp, “Look up and move forward” I knew this was what was needed.
God has been so very good to all of us. The seeds sown of love for God and family, have taken root in my own family now. The building housed the life we shared. But now God was having me pack the memories in my heart, look up to Him for comfort and then move forward into the future.
Thankfully, the sadness lasted only a day, but the comfort He gives lasts a lifetime.
Friday was the third anniversary of my brother’s first day in Heaven. I miss him so much, but this year I was in the throes of planning our daughter’s baby shower. I had no time to grieve or cry…until today.
In 2020 Billy had just retired from a compound pharmacy where I had my prescriptions filled. He loved his job and had given me a tour of the compounding lab where he worked. It was obvious how much his co-workers loved him. He had a contagious sense of humor that would make you laugh even when you didn’t want to. He said it was a gift.
Anyway, today I had to pick up an Rx from this pharmacy which is always emotional for me. I wasn’t expecting what would happen next!
The sign on the door said, “We’ve moved!
The shoe-shiner who has had a chair in front of this pharmacy for as long as I can remember told me they moved to the compounding lab around the corner. When I mentioned I knew where that was, he seemed surprised. I explained my brother worked there as a compounding pharmacist until he retired.
He asked the obvious, “Who’s your brother?”
“Bill Gray.”
With a smile a mile wide he said, “Chill Bill?He’s your brother?”
I said he was but sadly he died three years ago from Covid. He had only been retired 9 months.
“Oh, I didn’t know!” He continued to say how sad he didn’t get to enjoy life.
I told him how much Billy loved Heaven and now he was there having the ultimate retirement. It is a promise reserved for those who love and follow Jesus.
This kind man nodding with a knowing reassurance, “He’s better off than we are, ain’t he!”
With tears I turned away realizing afresh how much my brother impacted everyone who knew him.
Reblogged from The Romantic Vineyard from 3 years ago, this is the testimony I shared in our Church’s ladies meeting last night. The topic was listening to God. I share it here today as this month marks three years since all this took place.
Two weeks ago today, my brother went to be with the Lord. I have struggled to write this until now. And now is the time to put in words what has happened in my broken heart.
At the same time we received the news from the doctors that my brother’s lungs were not able to heal from the damage Covid caused, the 2020 Summer Olympics were beginning in Tokyo delayed a year by the same virus that ravished my brother’s lungs. Lifelong dreams were coming to fruition for the athletes, as my brother’s lifetime goal was being realized to be called home. Some of the athletes would receive the accolades of men receiving a medal of distinction, whether gold, silver or bronze. They would be forever commemorated as an Olympian medalist.
My brother at the same time was receiving accolades from the One who created him 66 years ago. In that time He met Jesus. He surrendered his life to Him. He followed Him. He told others about Him. He left a trail of testimony of God’s goodness, God’s kindness, God’s mercy to those who would accept Jesus as their Savior. His Celebration of Life was one testimony after another of how Billy gave his life to Jesus and encouraged others to do the same. Like the Olympians on parade, my brother’s life was being celebrated, but instead of a flag, a cross.
His passing happened so fast I was left reeling at the reality of life without him. My brother has been there for me my entire life. But most recently, after all I have been through with my granddaughter in 2019 and my grandson in 2020, he cried with me over my fears and my exhaustion. He volunteered to do all he could to help us through this dark valley. He comforted me with his love and hugs as only a brother can do. He was there for me…
Until he wasn’t.
In his wake we are still in shock. But he is receiving the reward of a lifetime—one for a life well-lived for God’s glory. The very best of medals that won’t fade with time.
A week or so after He entered eternity, I prayed and asked God to help me. I needed His perspective on all we were facing. But He seemed silent. I say often, “God is always speaking, we’re just not always listening.” In this case He seemed silent to me. I was asking, but hearing nothing. Yet in a strange way, my faith was still strengthened. In His silence I could sense His tender grip holding the pieces of my broken heart together until I was ready to hear from Him.
Ready? Are you ever ready to hear God’s purposes in a reality you would have never chosen to walk through?
I wasn’t sure I was. This is why He didn’t tell me what or when it was coming; He just showed up. In my dreams no less, where I couldn’t argue or shut Him down. All I could do was listen.
I had taken something to help me sleep, so there was no waking through the night. I am a vivid dreamer (as was my brother which is one of the ways we were alike), and God chose this night to speak one thing to me over and over, no matter how the dreams changed.
I kept hearing, “Read Ezekiel 3.23”
When I finally woke up I grabbed my Bible and read these words, starting with verse 22:
“22 Then the Lord took hold of me and said, “Get up and go out into the valley, and I will speak to you there.” 23 So I got up and went, and there I saw the glory of the Lord, just as I had seen in my first vision by the Kebar River. And I fell face down on the ground.”
I couldn’t wait to spend time alone with the Lord. He was calling me to come to the valley, but I didn’t know how to get there. He reminded me that I have been living in the Valley of the Shadow of death for two years. I didn’t have to go anywhere, just sit, pray and listen.
So that is what I did.
Two hours later the pain in my heart no longer ached with sadness. Now I was aching to see Him, the Savior of my broken heart. He met me in ways that only I could appreciate. He is personal like that. One important thing He impressed on my heart is that Covid didn’t steal my brother from our family. No! God called him home, which is the desire of all who know and love Him. He is receiving the Crown of Life promised to those who endure to the end. My brother faithfully loved Jesus and shared his love for Him with everyone who came into his life.
“Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love Him.” James 1:12 ESV
My time ended by listening to a song by Shane & Shane titled, “Though You Slay Me,” featuring John Piper. If you haven’t heard it yet, I encourage you to set aside some time and let God minister to your soul.
There is no god like our God.
He is intimately acquainted with me. He knows me better than I know myself or my husband who is closer to me than any other person. And the best news? He loves me—not because of anything I have done, but because His son, Jesus Christ, called me by name.
My Niece-in-law said it well, “To know my brother was to love him and if He knew you he loved you.” I love this, and it can also be said of Jesus’ relationship to His children. To know Him is to love Him and be loved by Him.
I invite you to know Jesus.
“All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out.” John 6:37 ESV
If you find your heart beating fast with the idea that your life can change forever, out of the dark valley, out of the misery you’ve endured thus far; it may be Jesus is calling you to respond to His invitation to love Him and be loved by Him. He is closer than you know and would love to embrace your broken heart as He did mine.
I will never be the same! And my closing ceremony won’t be a display of fireworks over the stadium in Tokyo. My closing ceremony will culminate when it’s my turn to hear, “Enter into the joy of your Lord!”
He was my first boss out of high school. He hired me to take the place of a friend of mine named Mardy who was attending college in TX. But I had no idea what the job was, only that it was Monday thru Friday from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.
Having worked as a restaurant hostess for a couple of years, I was ready for a job with a predictable schedule with good pay and benefits. I had no idea of the benefits I would have working at Nass Service Company, Inc.
It was May 1977. This was a month before I graduated from high school, and three months before Elvis would “leave the building”, as was often said about his death.
I remember this so well because Nyla, who worked in the parts department, had an obsession with The King of Rock and Roll. She cried hysterically when his death was announced over the radio. I cried for her and her broken heart.
On the day of his funeral, Bill brought in a little portable black and white TV so Nyla could attend his memorial service and say goodbye to him.
Bill had a compassionate heart.
It was a family business. His wife, Jimmie, was the office manager. Bill was the General Manager. His brother at one point was the Service Manager and his Niece worked in the Parts Dept. He also had one son who was a tech in the Service Dept.
I was hired as the receptionist and I loved being the one to greet customers, technicians, the mailman and our UPS delivery man, Boots.
Once hired you became family; the kind that laughs, cries, celebrates and reprimands you. Even when we would get in trouble for kidding around too much, Bill would always end up joining in the fun one way or another.
Bill had a great sense of humor and let us all call him Uncle Bill.
After Tom and I were married and had our first baby, Tom wanted to quit the retail industry. Bill was looking for a new Service Manager and Tom asked if he could apply.
Bill and Jimmie had us over for dinner to talk about it. Bill said he wanted Tom to come in on his day off to see if he liked it. Tom loved the job and quit his General Manager position at Gordon’s Jewelers the next day.
It wasn’t until years later that Bill told us he was actually considering a couple of others for the job, but when Tom quit his job he didn’t have the heart to turn him away.
We heard later that he had been mistakenly hired by Mr. Nass in Miami too. So he extended to Tom the same grace he had received.
Bill was empathetic and understanding.
When I heard last week that Bill Freeman had breathed his last breath in this life, my heart was a mixture of sadness and gratefulness. Sad that I would no longer be able to see him, but grateful for the memories shared and lessons he taught me.
Uncle Bill practically raised all the young adults he hired. Two even became his daughters-in-law. He taught us a sound work ethic, not an easy job for all our pranking ways. He let us be ourselves all the while leading us into being responsible adults.
Well, we like to think we’re responsible when needed. Uncle Bill might have said otherwise with a huge grin on his face.
Uncle Bill, I will miss you and always love you and your compassionate, humorous, empathetic and understanding heart. What a gift you have given all who knew and loved you. Now that’s a benefit most jobs don’t offer these days.
He was my 1st cousin, but old enough to be my Dad. His children (my 1st cousins, once removed) were the cousins I played with, hunted Easter eggs with and spent the night with at our grandmother’s (Big Mama’s) house. This was in Clermont, FL. What used to be a small citrus community west of an also unknown town called Orlando.
It used to take us all of 30 minutes to drive to my grandparents’ house when I was growing up. We watched for the only landmark among acres of orange groves during our drive—The Citrus Tower!
How times have changed. Clermont and Orlando are nearly inseparable. But I will never forget my growing up years and the adults who watched over me.
I learned last week that he left this life. I cried remembering the ways he helped our family through the years.
He was in the citrus business as was his dad, granddad and great-grandad before him. But he watched the industry dissipate. It was such a sad day when he bought the last 20 acres of groves from my Mom to develop it into a neighborhood. Of course we were grateful he was able to do this from a financial standpoint. But my Mom and I never went back to Oswalt Road in South Clermont after it was fully developed. Not because we weren’t happy for how he had taken the next step in our family’s story, but because we wanted to remember what was. My Mom moved there from Oklahoma when she was only 9 months old. This was her hometown!
Richard “Buddy” Oswalt went to be with the Lord last week.
I loved his laughter, his pranks and the way he loved life. Following is the tribute his three surviving children wrote about him. You’ll see what a man he was by the legacy he leaves behind.
Buddy was born on September 16,1937 in Clermont, FL. to Vick and Frances Oswalt. Buddy was a lifelong resident of Clermont, graduating from Clermont High School in 1955.
He passed away peacefully on September 26, 2022, surrounded by his loving family at his home in Clermont.
He married his high school sweetheart Gloria in 1957, the love of his life. He was employed by his father Vick Oswalt who owned Oswalt Grove Service, a citrus grove caretaking business. He became his dad’s right-hand man. His mother Frances was the office manager and bookkeeper. During his lifetime he also was involved in several ventures always connected to the citrus industry. B&O Dragline, Florida Air Spraying, Lake-Sumter Fruit Dealers and buying several orange groves through the years.
He belonged to the Clermont Jaycees who at the time built the Clermont Jaycee Beach. He was also a Clermont City Councilman for 4 years.
After the Citrus Industry in this area was devastated in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s, he began thinking of new ways to use his grove land. He attracted a few home builders who were looking for land to build homes for the new residents moving to this area. His son-in-law, Bill Thomas, custom home builder, built the first beautiful brick home in Crescent Bay on South Lakeshore Dr. on Crescent Lake. There were several more neighborhoods built throughout Clermont and South Clermont on Oswalt Land, one being on a family property originally owned by his Great Grandfather & Grandfather, purchased for a citrus grove in 1920.
He loved ranching, hunting, fishing, working and being in the outdoors. One of his special loves was growing things. He enjoyed growing oranges, lemons, avocados apples, peaches, blueberries, pecans, asparagus, flowers, and his favorites, daylilies, hibiscus, and flowering trees in both Florida and North Carolina. He took great pride in everything he did.
In the last 15 years, he enjoyed his mountain home on Cranberry Creek extending his love of water from Florida to North Carolina where he and Gloria spent the summers. He had the best of both worlds enjoying all the spring, summer and fall flowers and leaves. They met many friends through the church and the community where they lived.
He dearly loved his wife of 65 years, the love of his life and his family and especially spending time with them telling stories and making everyone laugh!
Survivors include, his wife, Gloria, daughters, Vicki O. Thomas (Bill), Becki O. Young (Faron) and son Mark A. Oswalt (Sara) He was preceded in death by his son Richard E. Oswalt, Jr. “Rick”, his father, Vick Oswalt and mother, Frances Oswalt, grandparents William and Grace Oswalt.
Grandchildren, Stacey Padgett, Stephanie Giraldo, Michael Kirkand, Mason Oswalt, Grace Oswalt, Lily Oswalt and Holden Oswalt. He has 6 great grandchildren Hunter and Joshua Crumbo, Madison and Makenli Kirkland, and Isabella and Ryan Giraldo. He is also survived by many cousins, nieces and nephews.
Brothers, Tom Oswalt (Shirley), John Oswalt (Carol) and sisters, Carolyn Bond (Wayne), and Dianne Russ (Charlie).
Funeral services will be held Friday, October 7, 2022, 2pm, at the First United Methodist Church of Clermont. The family will receive friends starting at 1pm at the church.
Yesterday finally happened. We’ve waited for over two years to honor her the way she deserved.
Julienne L. Walter born 6/30/39, died 3/20/20.
Right at the start of the pandemic she breathed her last in this life. We were sad at the distance (CA) and our inability to gather as a family to celebrate her life.
Grandma Jill, as our kids called her, loved life and laughter. She loved to shop and find little gifts to bless those she loved. She loved being a Mom and a Grandma, and she did them all well. We lovingly called her our “Bonus Mom” because she added so much joy to our lives.
I’d be remiss to not mention her dog, Genna. She was her pride and joy. She also loved good music—Andrea Bocelli and Sara Brightman were two of her absolute favorites.
We moved Tom’s Dad, her loving and devoted husband of 40+ years, to FL 6 months after she died. But it wasn’t until yesterday, the week of her 83rd birthday that we finally had our moment as a family to gather.
A long-time family friend and retired Bishop, Lou Campese, led the service under the pavilion at Florida National Cemetery in Bushnell. If you’ve never been there, it is a version of Arlington in Washington DC. Only approved veterans are honored there in memoriam, and since Tom’s Dad is retired from the US Army Reserves, he and his wife were accepted to be buried there.
A side note, when they were living in CA, Dad was honored to be accepted with burial privileges at Miramar National Cemetery in San Diego. This is where the original Top Gun movie was filmed.
It took some time to get approved to move his burial privileges from California to Florida. But as soon as he was approved, the plans for yesterday we’re made.
What an honor bestowed on all who have served our country heroically. You can feel the hushed reverence as you drive through the cemetery, passing row upon row of marble grave markers standing at attention to honor the ground where these heroic men and women lay.
Jill, we are happy you are at rest. We love you and thank God for the blessing you were to all of us. May you be remembered in the hearts of all who knew you and loved you. Until we meet again…
Books are divided into chapters much like life. We go through each one not knowing how it will play out. And how one chapter ends will determine if we want to continue turning the page.
When I wrote my book, Through The Eyes Of Grace, about the life of my maternal grandmother, my sister told me she had stopped reading. When I asked why, she said she couldn’t get past one chapter that was such a horrible part of her story. I told her she needed to keep going because this was the worst part of the story. Grace didn’t stay in this hard place, but God led her through the valley to green pastures.
The point is to keep going!
I am on a similar path. I’ve made it through a really dark valley the past three years:
We have a granddaughter who faced the fight for her life and sanity with PANDAS
Our grandson was born a micro-preemie with several mental and physical challenges due to CMV
We lost two parents
We lost my brother to COVID
A pandemic shut the world down for a season
We closed two estates and sold three homes
We moved three family members – two across state lines, one across town
And we’re not finished yet. I realized today that these are all chapters of the story God is writing of my life. I can choose to engage with it or withdraw. To be honest there are days when all I want is for life to go as planned, as I’ve planned. But this isn’t reality. Life is made up of ups and downs and they’re not for nothing. They have a purpose if I’m willing to do the hard work to find out–to turn the page.
Ann Voskamp’s new book is titled, Waymaker. It is a timely read for me as I’m finding connections all through her story to mine. One in particular is what she calls living SACRED lives. It’s an acrostic for
Stillness – to know God
Attentiveness – to hear God
Cruciformity – to surrender to God
Revelation – to see God
Examine – to return to God
Doxology – to thank God
Ah, just typing out this sacred process fills my heart with an expectancy. Like getting to the end of one chapter and diving right in to the next because you can’t wait to see what happens. I am realizing that God is leading me through the valley to green pastures, but He wants me to learn the lessons of the valley. This comes by spending SACRED time with Him.
I have one chapter left in Waymaker, and I’m hesitant for it to end. I have cried through page after page when her pain mirrored mine. I have anticipated the Word becoming real to her in her time of need. I have been thrilled as she connected the dots of God’s faithfulness to her in her darkest times. And I have nodded in agreement with the lessons she learned acknowledging it was all worth it .
We are all growing into the person God made us to be. But we can’t get stuck in one chapter–whether we love the chapter and don’t want it to end, or it’s a horrible chapter and we want to quit because we are weary and afraid of what will happen next. No. Read on, press on.
“But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 3:13 – 14 ESV
Tweet this: Looking back keeps us from moving forward.
That’s a number we often associate with a perfect score on a test or a high speed on the Interstate. But rarely does someone make it to their 100th birthday.
My Mom would have been 100 today.
She was born in the small town of Jenks, OK, in 1922 following the tragic death of her brother in 1920. Her only living brother was 11 years old at the time and was angry she wasn’t a boy. I can only imagine the heartache he suffered losing his little brother and best friend at such a young age.
The family moved to Florida when she was just 9 months old. Citrus groves were a hot, new investment for farmers and my grandfather and great-grandfather took the bait.
They arrived with the whole family including two cows and a horse by train. Once here they planted 32 acres of trees that produced a healthy crop for decades.
We have been in Florida ever since, but the orange groves are long gone.
It was a sad time in our family when the 32 acres of citrus trees we had were killed in the double freezes of 1983 and 1984. Only one tree survived due to it’s location; it was next to the irrigation pump that kept the tree just warm enough to save the roots of the tree.
My grandfather had installed that pump and it felt like part of him saved the lone tree for us to have its fruit. He passed away when I was 4 and my only memories of him are his pipe, the way he teased me and his delicious creamed corn.
My Mom sold the 12 acres of dead trees in town for the city to build a public park complete with ball fields, picnic pavilions, a massive playground and boardwalk through the bald cypress trees to the lake.
The other 20 acres she replanted with tangerine and tangelo trees alongside the one lone original tree. It stood like the grandfather of the grove making sure the young trees grew healthy and strong.
They did grow well, and we loved harvesting the early fruit that ripened just in time for Thanksgiving each year. We would pick as many as we could and gave them as gifts to friends at Christmas.
Those days are gone. My Mom was unable to afford to keep it, since the cost to harvest the fruit was more than the price she’d make selling it.
I’m sad to say the grove is now a subdivision in the sprawling hills of Clermont. The only memory of our family is the name of the road—It still bears my grandfather’s last name, Oswalt Road.
My Mom and I vowed to never drive out there again. A promise I’ve kept even after she took her last breath in 2012.
Happy 100th birthday in Heaven, Mom. I miss you. 💯🥰
It has been a season of loss for many, including myself. When I got the following article from Desiring God Ministries, it hit a chord in my heart that has resonated ever since. I pray it will do the same for you, but you must read it to the end. Otherwise, the article will leave you in a place of sadness, and I never want to do this for someone who is grieving.
Merry Christmas to all of you! May this serve as a gift from our table to yours. 🎄
Christmas With An Empty Chair
By Greg Morse
My grandfather is no longer here for Christmas.
I scarcely remember one without him, and yet now his absence is becoming the new normal. We no longer gather in his living room to read Luke’s account of Jesus’s birth, sing “Joy to the World,” open presents together, or eat the Christmas dinner he prepared. His chair, once so full of fondness, infectious laughter, and gentlemanly repose, now sits silent, full of memories.
A new sensation now dines with me during my favorite time of year. As the dining table crowds with new faces, new grins, and new babies, nostalgias of past Christmases unfold in the background. Here, more than at any other place or time, days past and days present meet. Here I behold fresh holiday scenes with old eyes. So much is the same, and so much is different.
Loss has made me older.
I look around the table at the bright eyes of the children, and see a joy unburdened. The Christmas they have known is the same today. They can’t see what their parents see. They cannot detect the soft-glowing faces or hear the unspeaking voices. To them, chairs aren’t empty, they’re yet to be filled. They don’t know the ache in our celebration, the wounds that never fully heal.
I now know Christmas as my grandfather had for years — as a mixture of gladness and grief, gratitude and regret, Christmas now and Christmas then. I could not discern the others who dined with us around the table from another life ago — parents, friends, his beloved wife. I never realized his Christmases filled with more than just that single Christmas. I now see the unspoken dimension. I better understand that weathered smile, brimming fuller, yet sadder than once before.
Suffice it to say, Christmases these days aren’t quite the same.
Out with the Old?
With this new experience of Christmas with an empty chair, comes certain threats and temptations.
Jesus once warned about sewing a piece of new cloth onto an old garment; or putting new wine into old wineskins. The wineskins might burst, he taught; the cloth might tear. But here we are. In the mind of the man or woman who has lost, the new is patched with the old; new wine pours into old family wineskins.
Perhaps you can relate. The pressure of sitting and eating and singing where he or she once sat and ate and sang can tear at the heart. You may have lost more than a grandfather. The strain of grief you feel around the holidays nearly concusses. The spouse whose name inscribed upon the ornament is no longer here. One stocking is missing. The beloved child you watched run down the stairs Christmas morning has not made it down for some years now. Christmas, this side of heaven, will never be the same.
I do not pretend to know such depths of despair. But I do know twin temptations that greet those of us who have lost someone. I hope that naming them might help you this Christmas.
Past Swallows Present
The first temptation is to the variety of grief that kidnaps us from life today. This bottomless ache comes when we begin to stare and stare at the empty chair. The grief overwhelms all gladness; the past swallows the present. The good that arrives is not the good that once was, so all current cause for happiness becomes spoiled or forgotten.
This is to step beyond the healthy grief and remembrance of our losses. It poisons the heart by entertaining the question the wise man bids us not to: “Say not,” he warns, “‘Why were the former days better than these?” For, he continues, “it is not from wisdom that you ask this” (Ecclesiastes 7:10). This grief poisons the what is with the what used to be. It hinders the ability to go on.
Grief threatens to lock us in dark cellars of the past, keeping us from enjoying the child playing on the floor or the new faces around the table.
Over-the-Shoulder Guilt
Second is the temptation to bow to the over-the-shoulder guilt bearing down on us. Lewis captures this in A Grief Observed:
There’s no denying that in some sense I “feel better,” and with that comes at once a sort of shame, and a feeling that one is under a sort of obligation to cherish and foment and prolong one’s unhappiness. (53)
“The empty chair can threaten to overwhelm all joy in this Christmas or shame us for feeling any joy this Christmas.”
This temptation sees the empty chair frowning at us. “Why aren’t you sadder? How can Christmas still be merry? Didn’t you love him?” The memory, not remaining in its proper place, looms over our shoulder, patrolling our happiness in the present. This shame is a sickness that tempts us to hate wellness.
So, the empty chair can threaten to overwhelm all joy in this Christmas or shame us for feeling any joy this Christmas — both must be resisted.
Melt the Clouds of Sadness
So what do we do? There the empty chair sits.
Fighting both temptations, I need to remind myself: Christmas is not about family around a dinner table, but about Jesus. And Jesus has promised that for his people — for my grandfather — to be absent from the Christmas table is to be present with him.
I ask myself, Should I wish my grandfather back?Would I, if it stood within my power, recall him from that feast, reunite his soul with his ailing body — reclaim him to sickness, loneliness, sin — summon him from the heaven of Christ himself to a shadowy celebration of Christ on earth?
Somedays I half-consider it.
But I know that if I could speak to him now, he wishes me there. The empty chair heaven longs to see filled is not around our Christmas dinner, but the empty chairs still surrounding Christ. Our places are set already. Better life, real life, true life, lasting life lies in that world. That empty chair of our loved ones departed is not merely a reminder of loss, but a pointer to coming gain.
“That empty chair of our loved ones departed is not merely a reminder of loss, but a pointer to coming gain.”
This place of shadows and darkness, sin and Satan, grief and death, is no place yet for that Happy Reunion. The dull Christmas stab reminds me that life is not what it should be, but it can also remind me life is not what it will soon be for all who believe.
Jesus will come in a Second Advent. He will make all things new. Christmases with empty chairs are numbered; these too shall soon pass. And the greatest chair that shall be occupied, the one that shall restore all things, and bring real joy to the world, is Jesus Christ, the baby once born in Bethlehem, now King that rules the universe. He shall sit and eat with us at his eternal supper of the Lamb.
And until then, while we travel through Christmases present and future, I pray for myself and for you,
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; Drive the dark of doubt away; Giver of immortal gladness, Fill us with the light of day!
Greg Morse is a staff writer for desiringGod.org and graduate of Bethlehem College & Seminary. He and his wife, Abigail, live in St. Paul with their son and daughter.
We went this week to see The Chosen Christmas at our local theater. We haven’t been to a movie theater in over two years, so being there was surreal. But this movie hit me on so many levels!
As you know our family took a big loss this year when my 66 year old, healthy brother whom I adored, died from Covid. Needless to say, it has been a very difficult year for all of us.
Then, one of the songs featured in the movie was sung by a group called Cain. The song’s title, Wonderful. Sounds like a typical Christmas song about rejoicing and celebrating the long-awaited arrival of our newborn King.
But that’s not the wonderful they’re singing of. Rather it’s to lift our drooping hearts to be embraced and cared for by our Wonderful Counselor.
He sees me. He knows my pain. And He alone can bring tidings of comfort and joy to my sad heart.
If you are experiencing sadness this Christmas, I am sorry for your loss. There are no words I can offer to make it better. However music has a way of reaching the depths of our pain and ringing comfort. I invite you to pause and listen to this song.
This will be the anthem of my Christmas 2021. May it be yours as well.
“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6 ESV
Write from the heart 