Christmas 2023 – Joy!
A Christmas wish granted. After over fifty years of separation, my parents will witness the homecoming of their son – not in person, but definitely in spirit.
Fifty-seven years ago, in 1966, my brother, at nineteen, entered the military. After basic training, he was deployed to Vietnam, where he served missions in Reconnaissance and Special Forces.
My parents couldn’t have known, when they said goodbye, that the relationship with their youngest son would forever be altered by the horrors of war, “where the brutal killing of innocents on both sides cannot be explained – soldiers dealt with the pain of their feelings, forced into extreme situations that have no obvious solutions and devastating lasting consequences. ” *
My brother survived the jungles of Vietnam, and another peacetime enlistment, but after leaving the military, he severed communication with his family.
Every Christmas, as my mother addressed her holiday cards, decorated the tree, wrapped presents, baked cookies, and gathered with her family, she and my father hoped and prayed they would hear from their son.
“God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains; it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” (C.S. Lewis)
In the memoir, In the Garden: An Ordinary Woman; an Extraordinary Life, I describe my mother’s suffering, and how love for her son and a deep abiding faith and trust in God transformed her into an extraordinary, humbled, Christ-like woman. I saw God in the face of my mother.
At first, my parents believed that if their son could be located, he would come home; however, it was not to be.
“How does a mother accept the unacceptable? How does she accept being separated from a son, she carried in her womb, and nursed at her breast? How many bottles would it take to hold the tears she sheds?” **
Broken and helpless, my parents threw themselves upon the mercies of their Lord. They never forsook their Jesus. In deep despair, they prayed for guidance and acceptance:
“Ellen addresses her Christmas cards, setting aside a special one to put in her son’s Christmas package.
‘Ellen.’ A shouting in her ear.
‘My Lord.’
‘I am here.’
‘Lord, my son, alas, my son. Please, if it is Your will, Lord, bring my son home!’ Her voice trails off in a wail of grief.
It is quiet for a time.
‘Ellen, It is written: …this is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.’
‘Your son?’ she murmurs.
A sudden revelation, like a lightning flash, breaks through her pain. ‘Jesus, Your only Son, sent to earth at Christmas, the Son, who would die on a cross. Then You know how I feel, Lord?’ Pain gushing forth. Sheer panic. ‘But, I love him so! I cannot live without him!’
His voice was calm, reassuring. ‘Cling to that love, Ellen. Trust me. Remember, I love him too.’
A mere whisper. ‘I will try. Help me, Lord.’
‘I will never leave nor forsake you, dear one. Be strong in your faith. Finish your task.’ He was gone.”**
“To live is to suffer,” is one of Buddha’s Noble Truths. God never promises our journey will be smooth and free of pain; however, He promises to walk with us in the pain. Scripture teaches that affliction is a necessary step in our development as a follower of God. Great lives bear out this truth.
“God says, ‘If you suffer, I’ll give you grace to go forward.’” (Billy Graham)
Over time, my parents came to accept and respect their son’s decision. They prayed for his well-being; for peace after the trauma of war; for spiritual growth. They learned to love without needing to feel loved in return – the Love that came down at Christmas.
“O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.” (St. Francis)
Postscript: This summer, my brother contacted our family, and this fall, he’s coming home to the farm where he grew up.
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)
Joy to the World!
*The Things They Carried, O’Brien
** In the Garden, Janet Hasselbring Note: Ellen’s conversations with her Lord, during the defining moments of her life, are sprinkled throughout the memoir to show that prayer changes things, transmuting despair into hope, and suffering into acceptance and spiritual growth.
Janet lives in west MI with her husband, Don, and Welsh terrier, Snack. Jan drags herself off the tennis and pickleball courts occasionally to write. Her writings include Tales from Pelican Cove, a series of books featuring wild/shorebirds from FL and beyond, Country Dairy, which describes life on her family farm, in west MI, in the 1930’s, when her parents lived and worked on the land, and Tweets, A Twitter Feed of Short Stories and Articles. She is a multiple NAMPA winner. Her piano gets lonely because she chooses to whack fuzzy yellow balls and dink pickleballs instead of tickling its ivories.
janet hasselbring 