A Christmas Letter From a Bereaved Believer

It's the time of year when cards keep the USPS in business, and families are left with the decision of whether or not to include a letter. With social media, almost everyone knows everything about us as it is. Yet, one time a year, we have a chance to share our highlights, dreams, and well wishes on a piece of festive paper, complete with our picture of smiling faces, coordinating outfits, and Christmas catch phrases.

For some of us, however, the "Merry" in our Christmas may seem a little out of reach. Some of us have been through hell-on-earth. Some of us are bereaved, broken, and bewildered. So what do we say? What do we compose for a letter no one wants to read? 

I, myself, didn't do a letter this year. What would people read that they didn't know already? We had our son, who brings light and life to our lives along with Little Miss. We miss our daughter, Harlynn, every moment of every day. That sums up our year. Our days. Every day. 

Yesterday's sermon, however, gave me pause. (Again. It's like God speaks through His Word or something. Weird.) Christmas letters are so much more than a highlight reel. They're a testimony. I could have written a letter this year...and it might have gone something like this:

Season's greetings from our family to yours.

This year was full of heartache and hope, as was the year before. There is not a season, or a month, or a week, or a day, we do not miss our baby girl. Our aching and longing for her is a permanent fixture, as if it has now joined our family as a physical member. We feel her presence, yet her void, every moment. 

Little Miss had her Christmas program at church, and while it was cute and adorable, I was struck by the fact we'll never see Harlynn perform. I'll never pick out her Christmas dress. Fix her hair in pigtails. We'll skip right over the years of her involvement and prepare Little Man for his performance debuts. The holidays especially, amid their cheer and joy, are an ever-present reminder of the moments we'll never have.

There are days when the heartache overcomes me. Days when I crumble beneath the weight of my grief. Days when the lack of understanding from others only adds to the burden of my suffering. There are days that are incredibly dark and heavy, and the feeling of missing Harlynn wraps itself around me and rests upon my shoulders. I still feel incomplete. I still feel broken. I still feel amiss.

However...there is hope. I look back on this year and I see the many blessings we received. The many ways in which we were provided for. The many comforts heaped upon us in our hours of need. Little Man arrived safely, and has been an immeasurable joy. His addition to our family has brought more love (and less sleep) than we could have predicted. Our jobs, our home, our time together as a family, our time with loved ones, the friends who have been rock-solid for us - we can't give enough thanks or praise to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine. 

God gave us clarity. Direction. Purpose. He gave us freedom to mourn. To rejoice. He gave us health. He gave us light and life. He gave us comfort. Understanding. He gave us forgiveness. Hope. Future.

He gave us the ability to see, and to recognize, His light in the midst of our tunnels. 

As this year draws to a close and we once again surge ahead to the "new" and the unknown, we will trust. We will cling. We will believe no matter what lies ahead, He holds us. In our brokenness, in our joy, and in our journey, we lean on Him with every step. 

May your Christmas be gentle, and may your hearts feel full.

Praying for and with you,

The Kleppens

When the Time is Right

Brent and I used to host gatherings in our home all the time. Actually, I should say Brent was gracious enough to tolerate my need for hosting gatherings. He was also great at last-minute-panic-cleaning, which is usually how I tended to operate. We had a 90s themed party, white elephant gift parties, birthday parties, movie nights - all sorts of gatherings. They were a riot, usually, and hosting filled my tank. It was one of my favorite things to do.

Then Harlynn died.

My love for gathering with friends was replaced by my love of personal reflection, needing space, quiet, and refuge. The thought of hosting other people made me physically uncomfortable; this was something I had never experienced before. I had a few friends ask me when I was going to host parties again. There was a time I would have thought, "never". Yet I would answer with, "When I'm ready." or "When the time is right."

I decided this year, this month, the time was right. Kind of. A little bit. Using my passive-aggressive tendencies as my shield, I decided to have a white elephant gift exchange. I knew if I hosted it during the week, beyond the first week of December, I probably wouldn't have a big turn out. Everyone is busy this time of year, and with so much else going on, it would be difficult to get people to come. I could ease my way back into this hostess persona.

How does that saying go? "If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans."

We have a history of having anywhere from six to eight people show for our white elephant parties. They're usually the smallest gatherings. Or at least they were. We had 16 people last night. Six. Teen. Sixteen. Our home is big enough to comfortably accommodate 10, maximum. We were very cozy in my living room.

Being a little rusty at hostessing, I felt the need to get the party underway as soon as possible. We drew numbers and were off selecting gifts. I have to tell you, I haven't laughed so hard in such a long time. My face was sore before the night was up, The next morning, my cheeks still ached. 

My biggest disappointment of the night was the fact our guests had to leave. We put Little Miss and Little Man to bed, and I sat in our living room, feet propped up, telling my husband repeatedly how much fun it was. He agreed. 

Our home may be small, but when it's full of friends, laughter, and hilarious treasures of gifts, I'm okay with being cozy. Especially since it allowed me the opportunity to see this up close and personal...

The time was right. I was able to talk about Harlynn with our friends. Her stocking hung with the rest of ours. Her special ornaments were displayed prominently on our tree. Harlynn bear was sitting in the living room with the rest of us. We had her blessing to host the party.

It took 20 months before I was ready to open my home, my heart, up to hosting again. It was the time table that was right for me.

I just want to encourage you: whatever you're going through, whatever you're facing, and whatever you struggle with, you can return to glimpses of yourself, of what you're comfortable with, when the time is right. It doesn't have to be today. It doesn't have to be this month. This year. This decade. The Lord will prompt you when the time is right. And when it is, you'll be ready. And if you're only "kind of" ready, as I was, power through. It just might surpass your expectations.

I can't wait to host another party...

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens." 

~ Ecclesiastes 3:1

A Christmas Letter

Hi Harlynn,

It's the holiday season again. I've been playing Christmas music, putting up decorations, and anticipating the marathon cooking I'll be doing once your Papa, Gramma, Auntie, Uncle, and cousins arrive for Christmas. I don't love the cold, but I do love this time of year. 

I hung your stocking a few days ago. The letter I wrote last Christmas is still inside. I haven't had the courage to take it out and read where my heart was a year ago. I'll add another one this Christmas Eve as I place little love gifts in the other stockings as well. I love that I can do that for you, that it can be my gift to you. A tradition all my own. 

I've found my mind start wandering in thinking about this holiday season were you here with us. What Christmas dress you would wear. How many gifts you would try to open before Christmas morning. What you would be interested in. Your big sister wants "decorations for my room" for Christmas. Isn't she the sweetest? Your little brother, I'm sure, just wants food. That kid can eat. And eat. And then eat some more. And the drool. Oh Harlynn, you should see the mass amounts of drool he produces. It makes your mama shudder.

Tuesday, I was stopped at a stoplight, and a mommy was walking across the street with her little girl. She was adorable, all bundled up in her winter coat, her showy snow boots, hat, and mittens. She would have been about your age, and she struggled to keep up with her mommy as she crossed in front of me. I never know what will trigger it. I never know when or why the tears will fall. Watching her hold her mommy's hand, and skip hurriedly through the crosswalk, did me in. I hope her mommy hugs her extra tight tonight.

This Christmas is different from last year. Rather than being angry for all the things I'll never experience with you, I've found I'm far more hopeful. Far more appreciative. I'm so thankful I get to remember you, memorialize you, honor you, so publicly. I'm so grateful as we head into the Christmas holiday, I get to hang a stocking for you. Special ornaments on the tree. I'm so thankful you'll always be a part of our family - at Christmas, and always. 

You would love our tree. It's beautiful, and it smells so good. When it was frozen, and in our van from the lot, I thought it smelled....not great. Now that it has warmed up and it's been watered, it smells like the Christmas trees I remember as a kid. If you find yourself next to a scotch pine, give it a big whiff. I'm sure the scents in heaven are far more lovely than in our living room.

I just wanted to you to know that I miss you. Still. Always. I think of you, I speak your name, every day. This Christmas is no different. It's hard not having you here. It's hard. If the lump in my throat could do any bit of good in bringing you back, it would have happened long ago. I long for the day we can all be reunited. I long for the gift of finally being able to look into your eyes. 

Until then, I'll be down here, loving you. I'm trying to take good care of your daddy, sister, and brother. Some days are better than others. They would tell you as much. Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Tell Jesus your mama says "happy birthday". 

All my love and then some,

Mama