During his homily, a local priest referred to Christmas as “the whisper of a hope that never dies.” This struck me to the point of tears.  These peaceful, consoling words I needed to hear this season came at the most unexpected time—and it has been a very, very long time since I have felt that sort of consolation flood my heart. While what he said was in reference to the spirit of Christmas, it also hit me as an adult child of divorce (ACOD).  There is always that whisper of hope — to heal.  

Christmas Eve: There was still laundry piled in the bathroom. Christmas decorations left in boxes. Winter clothes drying on the radiator. Dishes in the sink.  I was too tired to make potatoes for Christmas dinner, so I didn’t.  The gravy came out thick and my children fought over decorating the birthday cake for baby Jesus. The stockings fell off of the wall because I got the cheap brand hooks instead of name brand, because our financial situation is, well, a situation. The cookies never saw frosting and I still have Christmas cards to send out. 

Now, if I was writing this for any other blog this scene might seem a bit like a comical “Christmas Fails” segment. But, spoiler alert: it’s not. (Even though it was comical, and I had a good laugh myself—so no worries if you let out a chuckle or two, too.)  Many ACODs understand how this scenario could easily spiral into a complete and total perfectionist meltdown in a matter of seconds. For many of us, Christmas is just that much harder.  It’s not uncommon for ACODs to have a tendency towards perfectionism, and I am certainly one of them. But here is the best part: I let it all go. For the first time, in many, many, MANY years, I was not a frantic tornado stressing that EVERYTHING had to be in place and not only in place, but perfect, or else our Christmas would be ruined.

Amazingly, I could look at that list above and see it not as a compilation of failures, but as a victory.  It did not steal my peace. I repeat: It. Did. Not. Steal. My. Peace.  Now, of course it took a LOT of work, prayer, and self-awareness to keep everything in check, because as you know, old habits die hard. But I have a husband who knows me well and let me process everything out loud, even something as small as if we “need” potatoes for dinner tomorrow, and help keep things in perspective. 

And I have a relationship with Jesus that keeps the peace-stealers knocking at the door of my heart at bay as best as I can, humanly cooperating with grace to keep them there. I have a guardian angel who works overtime from November to January and a few other times during the year. I have a Mother who cradles me in her mantle of love and protection and just lets the tears come. I have a heavenly Father who delights in me simply because I am me (and this, my friends, is the toughest journey for my head and heart to walk together on). 

See, the victory did not come because I “did everything on my own because I had to” (lie number 2), but because I relied on the right support to help me grow and succeed. And success, in this case, did not mean perfection. There is nothing wrong with wanting all those Christmasy things I mentioned above crossed off the checklist.  If you were able to successfully do all those things and still keep your peace, I sincerely applaud you.  It just wasn’t in the cards for me this year. As an adult child of divorce, for me, they can easily become obsessions to bury the lies I believe about myself and the pain I still need to grieve. And victory #2, I grieved. After the presents were tucked nicely under the tree, I grieved. I wept. I let my husband be there for me in that vulnerable moment. I let the pain of my parents’ divorce out and my heart became just that little bit lighter that night. 

So, this Christmas I am thankful for the small, but mighty, victories and that I have the Comforter always by my side.  I hope that many of you had your own small, but mighty, victories this Christmas, too. 

“Be near me Lord Jesus, I ask You to stay.  Close by me forever, and love me I pray.”
“A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices.” 

About the author:

Mary Lucianne is an alumna of Life-Giving Wounds and is undergoing transformative healing to live out her life in the fullness that God intended. 

Reflection Questions for Small Groups or Individuals

1. During a holiday season, have you experienced a scenario like Mary’s? If so, how did you react? Did it remind you of your experiences as a child of divorce?

2. What “whispers of hope” do you carry with you?