The holidays can be tough.  For many, these few months are a time of expectation; expectation of seeing loved ones, coming together for meals and gift swapping, followed by drinks and story-swapping. But for some, the days alternate between seeking the joy in the season or falling into a state of utter despair. While most people will gather, others will grieve. These days are filled with both types of folks, often filling both roles.
 
I am no stranger to this. On December 26th, I’m headed to see people beloved to me; family I chose and was lucky enough to be chosen in return. The term ‘excited’ doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel about seeing them. Yet, I walk through the holidays with a constant ache. I miss my dad. My grandparents. My friends. In those moments, I join the ranks of the grieving. It’s hard, y’all. Most of you know that feeling, too.
 
So, while I look forward to gatherings, I also lament reunions that have not yet come to pass. I know that the people who have entered the eternal embrace of God eagerly await our arrival. I know that the people still among us do the same. The notion that plans have been made, both in heaven and on earth, for us to gather/be gathered? That gives me hope. It sustains me through the season. I hope that anyone reading this also has a similar sense of hope mixed in with their grief.
 
We celebrate the Incarnation of Christ. We await his coming in glory. It’s analogous to how this season—and every season of celebration—feels. While we know that Christ came into the world in human form, sometimes we may forget that our ancestors got to walk alongside him in physical form. When he died and resurrected? I’m certain they felt the same way we do, now. They missed their friend, but they knew that their reunion was coming. We know that sense of loss and that sense of being found in the embrace of those we love. I pray we can all have our grief tempered by joy.
 
Take heart, friends. Anticipate the joy to come—both in the immediate time and in the promise of eternity; in the coming of the Christ child and in the reclamation of the world in his second arrival. We are still surrounded by those who love us. We are also dwelling under a great cloud of witnesses that went before us. Both are beautiful and both deserve our gratitude. And one of those, the one who sits higher than the rest, will descend from that cloud and make all things new. Then holy rain will fall upon us, washing away our scars and replacing them with eternal bliss.
 
I hope we can all feel our joy this and every season. I hope we remember why we gather. I hope we remember that our grief is temporary. And most of all, I hope we keep searching for joy while we wait.
It’s in the seeking that maybe we will find it.
 
The Rev. Sean A. Ekberg, Rector, Episcopal Church of the Resurrection