Christmas miracles come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes, what we think is an absolute disaster, turns out to be a holiday blessing if we just learn to see with our heart and not our human eyes. And this year, I am being completely honest when I tell you that I had a very, very hard time seeing a particular miracle. After all, how could the loss of my aunt, my second mom, and one of my favorite people in this world, be seen as a blessing? It hurt. It hurt me, and it hurt the others who mean the world to me. So just where is the good in any of that?
It took me a long time to begin to see the good in this devastating event. I needed to get past my selfish human being and try to see the event with my heart and not just my tear-filled eyes. I needed to think of someone other than myself. I needed to understand what was in my dear aunt’s heart and hear the words she spoke to her beloved husband of 60 years. I needed to realize that she was tired. And she could feel her soul being called home.
But unlike me, she had a strength and faith that was unwavering. She knew that she was going home to be with everyone that we had loved and lost over the years. She even said that she was looking forward to seeing them all again. It had been too many years since she saw the loving smiles of her mother and father. But all my human mind could comprehend was the loss of this last wise maternal figure. The one that I still turned to, even in my 50s, when life felt overwhelming. I was forced to face this monumental challenge without the guidance of her wisdom and everlasting faith. I had no idea where to begin this journey on my own.
But what I did not grasp was that I am not alone; I never am alone. I carry the love and wisdom of all those gone before me, right in my heart. And as my mind cleared of earthly thoughts and concerns, I could hear her voice telling me that she was in a better place. She was happy and pain-free. And she was with the majority of our family. They were all with her, so glad to see her, and still watching over the few of us who remain here tied to this earthly world.
And from that first morning, I have been learning and growing by using my heart to hear and see what really matters in this world and beyond. I am confident in her peace. I can close my eyes and see her smiling at me. She is reaching out to touch me, and though her hand never reached my arm, I feel her touch and her love. She is sharing her peace with me.
And while her passing is not really a Christmas miracle, it is significant for me. Born a week before Christmas, she was all that the holiday season is meant to be. She was warm, loving, and kind. And this year, she somehow gave me a special gift this holiday season. After decades, I have begun to really embrace the peace that my lost loved ones are experiencing. And for the first time, maybe ever, I am thankful for what they have without any thought of what it might have appeared that I lost. They are not lost. They have just moved on in their journey. And someday, we will all be reunited to share eternity in that peaceful place.
Today, on her birthday, I want to share the gift she gave me with others. I hope that they can find peace and comfort by taking a step back from the way we think and understand in this world to see with my amazing aunt’s faith and wisdom.