Blue Christmas Without Nana Lesson Rev

Blue Christmas Without Nana Lesson Rev. Catie Scudera First Parish in Needham, 12/22/19

This season, I’ve both avoided making Advent all about the new Star Wars movie… and making Advent all about me and our 2020 baby — could have done it, because what else are we waiting for in Advent but the birth of a baby?

This is a joyful season of anticipation, in which we honor Mary’s choice to become pregnant with the baby Jesus; celebrate Joseph’s choice to stay by Mary’s side, including on the long journey to Bethlehem; and, gather in hope for a future where indeed there will be “peace and goodwill” for all peoples.

And, that’s just one of the spiritual aspects of the season. There’s also all the “secular” joys, loosely borrowed from ancient Christian and pagan traditions: evergreens graced with lights, spiced cookies and drinks, gift-giving that alludes to the legends of Saint Nicholas and of the wise visitors to Jesus’s manger…

The popular carol Joy to the World even has its 300th birthday this year: the lyrics declare, “Joy to the World, the Lord has come! … Let every heart prepare him room!”

And, I typically love the holiday season. But the last two years, my celebrations have been tinged with sadness and grief.

Last October — mere days after the birth of my niece Emily, the first great- grandchild in our family — my maternal grandmother, Nana Mello, succumbed to the pancreatic cancer that she had been fighting with chemotherapy and radiation for nearly ten months. Her memorial service last year was the Saturday before Advent began. I know her death put a pall over both the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays for my whole extended family.

My Nana Mello had played small and large roles in my Christmases ever since I was born, as her first — and, for over four years, her only — grandchild. As I know I’ve shared with you all before, my Nana was a doer and creator, and much of what I miss at Christmastime are the things she used to do and create for me. My grandmother went back to work after raising her children partly to save up her own store of money from which she could send all of us — eventually not only seven children, but fifteen grandchildren — a small check for every birthday, wedding anniversary, and Christmas. Every December, my Nana and Blue Christmas Without Nana Lesson Rev. Catie Scudera First Parish in Needham, 12/22/19 her sister would get together for at least one full day of baking, sending enormous Tupperwares of mixed Christmas cookies to all of their children and their families. For every “big” rite of passage, Nana would make for us grandchildren a blanket or quilt, which serve us well in the winter months.

Blessings visited upon me by others in my life at the holiday season have become tinged with sadness, because of my grief over my grandmother’s death: sweet holiday cards come to us from family, friends, and even church members nearly every day, but not from Nana; one of our friends delivered us Christmas cookies just a few days ago, but they’re not Nana’s staples; our youth group’s Yankee Swap last Sunday included a quilt, which was well crafted but not as nice as my Nana’s work.

I am trying not to be a grief-filled Grinch this season. Instead, I try to extend myself some grace and comfort when I have a sad moment, as I still strive to honor my grandmother’s memory by showing steady love, warm hospitality, and a joyful spirit during the holidays. I acknowledge my grief, share stories of my grandmother, and extend gratitude to all those in my life who are doers and creators.

As modern Lutheran pastor Rev. Michael Coffey writes,

“It’s OK to be blue when everyone else is green and red. It’s OK to be sad in the midst of excessive merriment. But also: It’s OK to be joyful even when we grieve or feel sadness. It’s OK to let [ourselves] celebrate in hard times. It’s OK to share moments of laughter even when we know illness and grief.”

The winter season, with its many holidays and lights amidst the fertile darkness, is large enough to hold all our joys and all our sorrows — if we are careful to prepare room in our hearts. May we honor our losses as we fill our spirits up with the joy of the holidays. Blessed be, and amen.

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