Signs of Life

“I call these signs of life,” my cousin Donna said as she delicately folded clothes at my baby shower. I leaned in to hear more, keenly aware of my daughter pressing against the inside of my broad belly. “Whenever I see a pile of laundry, dirty dishes, or socks on the floor, I call them signs of life.” These grace-filled words came from experience. 

Under rare and sudden circumstances, Donna lost two children at young ages. I was nine when Emily, my eleven year old cousin, passed away. Years later, Donna’s son Nathan passed away from the same condition around the same age. Her son that is now my age is the surviving member of the sibling group. I was too young to recognize the full impact these losses had on their family, but now as a parent I’m amazed by their resilience and ability to cope.

For Donna to view the daily monotony as a gift challenged me to take a look at my own perspective. I mean, if we’re looking for signs of life this place is HOPPING. Snack bowls EVERYWHERE. Clothes that missed the hamper. Other near misses that moms of boys (and some girls) are nodding their heads about. These are the things that add up and take me away from enjoying the little lives behind these messes. Is it possible that my attitude about these tasks is actually communicating negativity toward my kids? I’m thankful for these little lives, but do they know that?

Donna and her husband took time to grieve and as she describes it today, will always have a hole in their hearts. I can only imagine. However, they also made a choice to show up. They’ve celebrated each of our children and listen attentively to their little stories. Each year at Christmas, they greet children as Mr. and Mrs. Claus. They did not allow personal pain and suffering to shut them off from life. Their faith built on God’s peace rather than their own expectations.

I asked permission to share this story the week of Thanksgiving. Not only did our relationship deepen from the conversations we had, but she was able to share some stories with her grandson, as well. The door opened and we took time to remember. It occurred to me how important it is to invite people to remember, even when it won’t yield cheerful and celebratory shots you’d share on instagram. Some of the sweetest connections are captured by the heart, never to be seen by the world.

I don’t know where this story finds you, but I imagine you are preparing for the holiday by coordinating schedules, planning your meals, buying and sending gifts, and trying to fit Jesus into His own storyline. You're navigating complicated relationships and awkward dynamics. You’re practicing courage in the wake of loss. You want it all to be perfect because it is, after all the most wonderful time of the year. 

I could say these are the cost of living, but I don’t want to deplete your emotional bank account. Christmas is already burning a hole in our actual bank account. So close your eyes, take a deep breath, and let it out. These are the signs of life. Our days are fuller when we extend ourselves to others. We can handle the chaos for a short while because for the most part, we have a roof over our head, people we love, work to do, and a world to explore. When we focus on what we have, not what we’ve lost, we find our glass is overflowing. Not half full or half empty. Spilling over. 

Jesus entered our hurting world to guide it toward a future complete in Him. Our Prince of Peace, which translates to leader of completeness (sar shalom), mends the places we can’t reach with peace we can’t fathom (Philippians 4:7). He offers signs of eternal life!  So we celebrate what we know is temporary, we remember what’s lost, and we hope for what’s to come! We grow stronger and more resilient as our faith develops and deepens in Him. I’m praying that this offers you hope this holiday season. Merry Christmas, friends!