For as wonderful as the holidays can be they are not a break from the weight of living.

If anything, this is the time of year when life for many becomes darker and more challenging.

Navigating difficult relationships.
Returning to a place you once called home.
Sitting at tables of unmentionable tension.
Being seen as the person you once were and not the person you’ve become.
Seeing empty seats around the living room.
Receiving gifts like insults and unwanted advice and questions that cross boundaries.
Reminders of what hasn’t happened or what once happened.

Sure, the Christmas season is painted as one of joy and wonder, and there is certainly joy and wonder in the arrival of Christ, but what do we do when we aren’t joyful or full of wonder?

What do we do when we are exhausted?
Hurt?
Sad?
Depressed?
Lonely?
Anxious?
Insecure?
… Over it?

Recently I received a few messages from those who have attempted suicide or contemplated suicide.

As I read their messages I couldn’t help but think just how heavy and fragile this life is.

I know, this life is also a gift, but that doesn’t make it any easier, even during the most merry time of the year.

Maybe we need to acknowledge (once again) that this life is difficult and weird and more than we thought it would ever be.

Most days I find myself wondering what’s going on here, because most days I just don’t know.

It’s all loud.
It’s all confusing.
It’s all uncertain.

Yes, it’s all a gift, but it’s a lot.

On top of this, there is always something else that seems to get in the way of a breakthrough or peace or rest.

The darkness disturbs the light and I am left wondering when all of this will be made right.

I don’t know what it is that seems to get in the way or feel the weight of living.

Maybe it’s too much time spent on internet or too much sugar in my diet.
Maybe I’ve said yes to too many things.
Maybe it’s my perspective or expectations.
Maybe it’s the weather or comparison or something I need to unpack with a counselor. 

I know coffee helps.
I know dogs help.
I know Jesus helps.
I know writing helps.
I know the sunshine helps.
I know friends and family help.

But what helps doesn’t always erase or replace the pain or questions or lies we tell ourselves.

There isn’t a trick or switch to flip that will make everything better, but there is something.

Something that has always been.

Hope.

There has always been hope.
And hope, just like this life, is heavy.
But we carry hope together.
Through the uncertainty.
Through the wondering.
Through the waiting.
Through the pain.
We carry hope together.

For more of my poetry, check out my books!