Letters to Sabrina
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| photo of the day: december 1st...beginning of Advent |
Advent. This was my favorite time of year. I grew up in a house of five girls and one boy and we were always poor. My dad was in and out of construction work, and my mom did all she could to care for our family with little means.
We never had birthday parties or many presents, but Christmas was always special. On years when my mom could not afford gifts, she would work night after night using her creative talents making handmade gifts for us. One Christmas morning I woke up to a handmade Cabbage Patch doll. I was all smiles that day. Christmas was my favorite holiday. It was a day of hope. A day of great joy.
As my faith in Jesus grew, the day became even more of a day of great celebration. I loved making my own family traditions and watching the joy it brought to my little ones. Then my baby died on Christmas Eve and I was heart-broken. I spent the evening holding all of my hopes destroyed. How could I ever celebrate this day again? I never wanted to relive this horrible day. How can I celebrate the birth of baby when my own has died?
Last year as the advent season neared, I felt a bitterness grow in my heart. How cruel is life that I have to have a calendar on my wall that counts down the days to my daughter's death? Everyone everywhere seems to be counting...chanting the days. The joy, the smiles, and asking, endlessly asking me my plans for the holidays! I smiled and replied kindly but inside was a fountain of tears.
Why Christmas Eve God? Why did my baby have to die on Christmas Eve? My heart ached and I was angry. Then one night suddenly He spoke into that hard heart of mine. "If there were one day you would want to hold your baby? If there were one night you would want to stay awake holding your Sabrina? What would it be? What night out of all of the others would you want to be with your little girl?" I began to cry.
He knew. He knew me well enough to know how special it would be for me to spend my one day, my one day to hold my sweet Sabrina would be on Christmas. And so I will always have the memory of holding my sweet baby on Christmas Eve and into Christmas morning.
We never had birthday parties or many presents, but Christmas was always special. On years when my mom could not afford gifts, she would work night after night using her creative talents making handmade gifts for us. One Christmas morning I woke up to a handmade Cabbage Patch doll. I was all smiles that day. Christmas was my favorite holiday. It was a day of hope. A day of great joy.
As my faith in Jesus grew, the day became even more of a day of great celebration. I loved making my own family traditions and watching the joy it brought to my little ones. Then my baby died on Christmas Eve and I was heart-broken. I spent the evening holding all of my hopes destroyed. How could I ever celebrate this day again? I never wanted to relive this horrible day. How can I celebrate the birth of baby when my own has died?
Last year as the advent season neared, I felt a bitterness grow in my heart. How cruel is life that I have to have a calendar on my wall that counts down the days to my daughter's death? Everyone everywhere seems to be counting...chanting the days. The joy, the smiles, and asking, endlessly asking me my plans for the holidays! I smiled and replied kindly but inside was a fountain of tears.
Why Christmas Eve God? Why did my baby have to die on Christmas Eve? My heart ached and I was angry. Then one night suddenly He spoke into that hard heart of mine. "If there were one day you would want to hold your baby? If there were one night you would want to stay awake holding your Sabrina? What would it be? What night out of all of the others would you want to be with your little girl?" I began to cry.
He knew. He knew me well enough to know how special it would be for me to spend my one day, my one day to hold my sweet Sabrina would be on Christmas. And so I will always have the memory of holding my sweet baby on Christmas Eve and into Christmas morning.
Yet every year it is hard not to let the bitterness grow in my heart as the advent season arrives, and so this advent I've decided to write letters to my Sabrina on my blog. Letters of remembrance. Letters that help me heal. A photo and a letter each day. This year the count down will be one of healing.
Dear Sabrina, these letters are for you. These letters are to tell you that I love you and remember you my Christmas baby girl...
Dear Sabrina, these letters are for you. These letters are to tell you that I love you and remember you my Christmas baby girl...
Crying.
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