Christmastime is my favorite. The music, decorations, ugly sweater parties, cookies and candy canes – all of it ignites child-like excitement within me.My most favorite Christmas tradition though revolves around Christmas trees. I think the Christmas tree is the most grand and the most beautiful of all the symbols of the season. I enjoy taking pictures of them everywhere I go during the holidays; all different styles, shapes, sizes and color schemes. I have my own growing collection of Christmas tree keepsakes and I purpose to find special and one-of-a-kind ornaments for our tree that tell a story and express bits and pieces of who we are. Our family tree is covered with superheroes and Star Wars characters, hunting ducks and shotgun shells, sparkly shoes and music notes, all celebrating what makes each of us unique.
But more than the ornaments on the tree, every Christmas I am captivated by it’s light. I put twinkle lights up around the house on shelves and inside of greenery and I love to turn off all other lights in the house except for the twinkle lights and soft candlelight. There is no other feeling like it. That special Christmas light is one that fills me with something more than just a cozy feeling.
In John 14:6, Jesus says, “I have come as a light into the world, that whoever believes in Me should not abide in darkness.”
I believe in Jesus. He is my Savior and my God and my friend. But, sometimes, I still choose to abide in darkness. I began to wonder about the parts of my life that I’ve been hiding away in darkness that are in need of His light.
With the difficult year I had that was nearly half-full of a major illness, recovery, surgery and recovery again, I found myself in a surprising place of dependence on pain medications. Being on them for so long, my body became used to having those drugs, so that when I didn’t anymore, I experienced severe withdrawal symptoms. When I realized what was happening to me – sweats, shaking, wringing hands, extremely restless legs, and insomnia, I was flooded with shame. On top of my sickness, now I had become a “junkie” too, I thought. In my desperation to sleep I turned to drinking alcohol so I could calm the withdrawal symptoms I was experiencing. And it helped – after a couple of drinks, I was able to finally rest and go to sleep. The habit continued into the months well after my recovery and I realized that I had been medicating with alcohol and drinking frequently, in attempts to push down the traumatic memories surrounding my illness, and the blanket of loss and loneliness that has seemed to cover this year. I haven’t really been present, because it’s been too painful to be.
In September, I recognized that I had a problem and began meeting with a friend to process what I went through and why I was wanting to drink. Knowing that my mother was a prescription drug addict and an alcoholic, I knew I was walking a dangerous line. I didn’t want to hide this in the dark anymore.
I’ve learned over the years, that when we expose our sin and struggles to the light, they lose power over us. Hope enters in and Jesus begins to transform us.
My friend has offered me her eyes, her tears and words of truth and grace, shedding the light of Jesus on what could have been a dark and shameful place for me. I am ever grateful to experience the hands and face of Jesus through a friend who can sit with me in a complete muck of a mess and love on me right there in it.
The light of Jesus is like that. He enters the most difficult, the most tragic and wretched places of our lives. If we let Him in, He will go to the darkest places of our hearts, the places we try our hardest to hide away and He is faithful to shine His light so that we may see and be set free.
As the year comes to a close and we sit in this sacred season of advent, I knew I needed to quiet my heart, and make some space for Jesus to walk hand in hand with me. I prayed about how I could approach advent differently especially considering my recent struggles. Much like one might do for the Lenten season, I’ve decided to fast from sugar, bread, and alcohol. During the time of year when all three seem to abound, how many times might I get to lean into Jesus when I am offered one of those things or craving them? With the absence of the things that I often enjoy and choose to numb out with, I am hoping to be more present in mind, body and spirit this season.
This advent, I’ve come with my bottle of vodka, my favorite chocolates and a basket of bread and laid them by the cradle and the cross as an offering and a sacrifice. This Christmas I will be enjoying the twinkle lights of my tree, reminded of the places that Jesus doesn’t leave me in the dark and thankful that I’ve accepted His invitation to abide in the light and life He brings.
Deeply rooted in South Texas, Jennifer Stamness is a sunshine-lover, wife and mother to two young boys. She enjoys creating beauty in places like writing, music, decorating and throwing parties. She desires to follow Jesus into the unknown places He invites her to and is thankful for His abundant and amazing grace. Jennifer writes, dreams and shares pieces of her story here.
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What a year this has been for you Jen. This post is filled with your signatures: honesty, vulnerability and hope. I want to be near you at that manger scene bringing my own “go to’s” and laying them down. ❤️
Thank you Tracy. It’s good to have company at the cradle <3
I love your courage to let Jesus and the warmth of His light and love enter in. Our pride prevents the light from entering, and you are continually giving it over. Even in the messiness and wrestling, it is a beautiful model for us all! Thank you, Jennifer!
Thanks Amy. Hoping you have plenty of the warmth of Jesus’ light and love this Christmas!
Jennifer – thank you for this heartfelt reminder that Jesus is with us in the dark places, and for the honesty in leaving the vodka within the offering and sacrifice. I read your post this morning, the morning after dumping the tequila down the kitchen sink, and am inspired by your hope of being more present this Christmas. Renee
Oh Renee – I am so glad to hear that I am not the only woman pouring alcohol down her sink this December. Joyful to be alongside other women with the desire to be present.
Beautiful, Jenn. I love your courage, your vulnerability and your sweet desire to ‘lean on Jesus’ in hope and faith. Inspiring, compassionate and lovely…thank you!
Your words and tears and presence for me the last few months have been such a gift to my heart and have given me the courage to take this step inparticular with my vodka. So so very grateful for you dear Ellen.
Jen, you are easy to love. I love your writing and your ability to be real. I love the picture of you laying down vodka, bread and chocolate by the cradle and the cross. You are a woman of strength and courage. May this year bring a return of wellness in every way. Thank you for your offering to us this Advent season.
Thank you Becky! After the year I’ve had, I’m very curious what the next will hold, but I am so hopeful of wellness in every way as you put it!
Yes friend. Yes. Love you and as said above, you are courageous, real, strong, vulnerable, honest, and hopeful. What a beautiful post and picture. Thank you for inviting me to also consider what I want to lay down.
Love you too B. <3
Your bold choices and the honesty with which you dare to name them invites me deeper too.
I hear the trauma your body has been through, and that it carries still. It is real, and I love that you are paying attention and providing care and inviting others to be with you there – all wise, kind and courageous choices.