Christmas is coming, we've ordered the prawns.

You know you live in the land down under, when your mum-in-law keeps reminding you to "order the Christmas prawns in time". And so I walk Simon down to the corner fish and chips shop, a dingy looking beach shack that we pass by every day, which boasts it has the best fish and chips in Noosa, and order our Christmas prawns, hoping they'll be good enough to please my mother-in-law. Of course, every fish and chips shop says they're the best in town, but this one has a life size fisherman "doll" currently decked out in a Santa suit, who sits outside the shop each day to prove it. Simon waves to him whenever we pass by, and whether or not their prawns actually are the best in town, their shop decor certainly is. Yes, Christmas in Oz is one of a kind.

I'm not sure how I'm feeling about Christmas this year. It's usually my favorite holiday. But this is my first Christmas without my dad, and I'm not sure how I'll go. I thought we'd fore go the Christmas decorations and tree, but in the end, we ended up getting a tree and this week we decorated it, with pretty blue "balls" from IKEA (that Simon wants to play with!) and some of my childhood ornaments that arrived a few days ago in a Christmas package from my mom. That was indeed special, and I am really enjoying the tree and the lights, and even though it's 100 degrees outside and our house is like a sauna, singing Christmas carols seems to bring me joy. Yet, I feel so far removed from it all. Like I said, in Oz, Christmas is one of a kind. They'll be none of my family (besides Andrew and Simon)here, and a day at the beach, eating prawns and playing cricket, is unlike any of my childhood memories. I think in some ways it would be harder, if we were back in the States, where we were last year celebrating Christmas with my mom and dad and sisters. We had such a good Christmas last year, all of us together, eating my mom's fudge and peanut brittle, and enjoying the little boys. It was amazing. It's almost unbelievable that almost a year has passed and that my dad really is not longer here and will not share another Christmas with us.

So I'm wishing I was in the States with my family, but also, kind of feeling surreal in the land of Oz. I'm not sure what to make of it. I seem to be going through the motions of life lately, but unable to feel, to digest what's really happening. I wonder if it's a natural coping mechanism that I'm automatically employing to get through the holidays and the one year anniversary of my dad's death. Those times when I start to open up my soul, like today when I was riding my bike with Simon and I passed a hotel and something about the smell and feel of the place reminded me of being at the Movenpick hotel in Aden, with my family years ago. I remembered eating their ice cream and swimming in the pool, my dad making a big deal out of the ice cream being from the "mooovenpick". Just little things like that surface and I feel so unbelievably sad and the pain is so sharp, and I seem to not be able to stay in that space for longer than a few seconds, before something inside of me switches back to numbness, remembering without truly feeling, feeling grateful and satisfied with those times but unable to really stay in those memories. It's hard for me to hold my sadness and grief. I seem to keep myself so busy - too busy to think, my mind spinning over the things on my incredibly long "to do" list. I rush from one thing to the next and keep the sadness at bay. I don't like this, but I think it's a part of grief and I'm hoping that I won't get stuck in this part, but that I'll have the courage to again let the reality of it all in and have the strength to bear the deep pain. Sometimes I have intense dreams and I wake up screaming or crying, as the reality of my dad's death sets in. It's amazing how your mind can keep yourself from emotionally believing something you know is true, and then it is in your dreams that the truth must surface.

I know I've rambled on, and could keep rambling on. I guess that's part of the problem, too. No one really wants to talk about it. At first all I wanted to do was talk about my dad, and I began to feel quite angry and betrayed that very few of my friends actually wrote or mentioned my dad, after an initial email. I longed for people to be there, longed for support, but didn't have the strength to ask for it. I just wanted to talk about it but found few people who seemed comfortable to do so. Thankfully I had a few friends who, going through grief themselves, understood, and so we supported each other but after a while, I think you are all so tired from all your grief that you need those outside the grieving circle, too, just to help hold you up.

So my Christmas wish is this, if any of you reading this blog know someone who has lost someone they loved deeply, remember them this Christmas and if possible, let them know you are thinking of them. While you may feel uncomfortable, not know what to say and wonder if it is better to say nothing at all, I don't think it is. I think saying something is much better than nothing.

I hope that none of you reading this begins to feel guilty or offended, that is not my intention. But I think there are so many hurting people out there, and what better time of year than now, to let them know they're not alone. I got choked up when we were visiting Andrew's grand dad last Sunday, realizing the propensity of loss that he and those in his nursing home must experience each day. How many of their loved ones have died? How many goodbyes have they said? How many times has their heart broken? And now, how many lie there in a state of emotional numbness, trying to keep the pain away because it's too much to bear alone.

How great is the love of God, that He would not keep himself emotionally distant from us, but would instead, be born in Bethlehem so that he too could have his heart broken and be left alone to suffer? "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have eternal life."

As I think back to Bethlehem, so many years ago, and remember the birth of God's son -I remember Christmas's of old, my parents reading us the Christmas story from the Bible. I remember the words of the Christmas carols we sang. I remember our tradition of caroling in the hospital where my parents worked. I remember our last Christmas together, my dad singing "O Holy Night", with his whole heart and soul. These words he believed. "O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining, it is the night of our dear saviour's birth. Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till He appeared... a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn! Fall on your knees, o hear the angel voices, O Night Divine, O Night, When Christ was born!"

In these words I find love and truth and hope, all wrapped up like a Christmas present to me from my dad. And so, I will savor these words this Christmas. I will survive the sadness of this first Christmas without you, Dad. I will find the courage I need to hold joy and pain simultaneously. I will put my faith and trust in this child, Jesus, who was born, and lived and died and rose again. I will remember that Holy Night.