When You Don't Feel Like Celebrating

His first birthday was just around the corner, and I tried to pretend it wasn’t coming.

Why our fourth child was falling short of his development milestones was something I did not understand. It’s one thing when it’s your first child and the expectation or knowledge hasn’t been uncovered, but it’s another thing when you have watched three others go before on track and on time in every way.

The fact that our son wasn’t holding his head up by three months or crawling by six months made the idea of walking by twelve months increasingly concerning. The pediatrician agreed and we began to explore the why.

Test after test was conducted, and we were informed that he did in fact have low muscle tone. Physical therapy would be necessary to provide the opportunity of standard development, avoiding further delay. However, the warning was also issued. If he didn’t walk by sixteen months, then it would indicate a more involved neurological concern.

Here we sat at 11 months and three weeks. The first birthdays for the other children were vividly present in my memory. The invitations were sent weeks ahead, party food by theme planned, and presents purchased with excitement. This time it all felt different.

I loved our fourth no less than any of the others. True, the level of exhaustion for me as a mother in that season reached it’s greatest height, but no matter how hard I tried, I was dreading any sort of celebration. In fact, my in-laws had just arrived from out of state to visit, and yet I had not one detail of a party planned. No guest was invited. No theme decided.

I remember fighting thoughts in my head and wrestling through the disappointments. It seemed as though I couldn’t grasp the fullness of joy in the days leading up to his birthday. If I invited all of our friends, it would draw the most attention to the very thing that I wanted to avoid. I didn’t want to answer questions to which I didn’t have answers. I felt emotionally fragile. Deep down, perhaps, I was even embarrassed that he wasn’t able to move like other kids at his age.

I wonder if that is how some of us feel this holiday season.

The calendar is typically full of events sure to deliver joy. Holiday attire traditionally hangs in our closet ready to accompany us out on the town. Our tables are normally set with more place settings than just our own.

This year, no matter where you find yourself, it feels significantly and tangibly different. Perhaps we feel more scattered, more lonely, or more cautious. The disappointments continue as we limp toward the finish line without the usual motivation to finish strong.

I understand.

I understand the desire to avoid celebrating, because of fears and disappointments alike. The exhaustion is real along with the desire to push joy away, put on our comfy winter pants, and wallow in the frustration of it all.

But … what if we pushed through, and found a reason to celebrate anyway?

What if we allowed ourselves to really feel our aching needs rather than try to avoid them?

What if we sought after joy in something less tangible this year, but equally present?

As the days leading up to the big birthday approached, questions started coming about how we would celebrate. I knew I needed to confess my hesitations with trusted souls, and as I did their encouragement to celebrate anyway began to push away hesitation.

My father-in-law, known for his Texas BBQ offered to provide much of the meal, and so we decided a low-key backyard party would be an easy solution. A few days prior, I sent text messages asking neighbors and a few close friends to join us for Nathaniel’s first birthday.

To my surprise, everyone responded yes to my last minute request.

That Saturday, despite the hesitancy in my heart, we celebrated anyway. Gifts were opened, pictures taken, and games played. Very few knew the battle that had taken place in my heart the previous week. They also didn’t know that each one of them were a physical answer to prayer, because sometimes when we don’t feel joyful, the joy of others carries us to the next moment.

2016

Almost five years later, I look back at pictures, and I am so grateful we made a day of it. The pictures represent not only a sweet milestone in his precious life, but the tangible joy that can be felt when you say yes any way.

He is a healthy, growing boy with no significant delays. He started walking after consistent therapy at 15 months. While I know that may not be the end to every story, the lesson remains.

We don’t know the ending of our story, yet there is an Author all the same. In the mean time, let us remind ourselves of the truth.

Each moment counts.

Each moment is worthy to be celebrated.

Each moment is a miracle of grace.

This holiday season, you may also feel the exhaustion of a relentlessly challenging year. The gaps on the calendar and empty chairs may draw attention to something you might prefer to ignore.

May I encourage you to celebrate anyway?

May I encourage you to share your heart with trusted souls?

May I encourage you take pictures anyway, and then help carry those beside you?

May this be the year that we not only read about the Advent season, but that we live it fully with open hands and aching hearts, with teary eyes and tired minds, and with deep longings that can only met in the future hope of a coming King.

Let us celebrate anyway.

2020