Do you believe in Christmas Miracles?
I know this is a post that is supposed to wait to the end of the year, but I’m doing it now. This has been the worst year. I can’t look back on it and find positives. I’ve lost so much that’s important. Cliche’s abound to provide inspiration of a positive outlook, but the truth is that loss sucks and it’s worse when you can’t rationalise it, understand it or know everything about it.
Halfway through working primarily in Germany a few years ago, I was actually down at the office in London (yes, London, England). I got up in the morning and had a shower. I walked out the bathroom and ran a comb through my hair. As I did, I felt all the hair fall down my back. It did this with every stroke of the comb, and it wasn’t small amounts. I know it’s vain, but I was shaking. I began to notice everyone’s hair. I didn’t want to drink things because that meant I would look in a mirror in the office bathrooms – large mirrors with fluorescent lighting above them. I had no appetite unless it was breakfast cereal. If I got to sleep, I would wake up and see hair on my pillow. I would wash my hair in the bath so that I could keep track on the amount of hair that was falling out which I couldn’t do in the shower. I avoided going out because that meant I didn’t need to wash my hair at all.
At the same time I developed an infected cyst on my back which eventually needed bursting and draining, and repacking every day for three weeks in hospital. This provided a little respite as I worked from home for the duration meaning that I could wear hats every day I needed to go out the house, but the hardest thing about the whole situation was that I couldn’t find answers. I couldn’t find what was happening to me and when it would stop and I hated not knowing.
Not knowing is the worst thing. We live in a day and age where you can find virtually everything you need. When I can’t, I feel helpless.
Sometimes, even when you don’t know the facts, you can get feelings about things. A few weeks ago I was trying to find a taker for a concert ticket. Everything was going so wrong in this task that something in my body was telling me that maybe someone was putting together my dream series of events. Something else was telling me I was dreaming.
Part of the thing about not knowing is that you can cling to the smallest of straws, and that’s not clinging to the best case scenario necessarily but to a position that you can be happy with. When you have nothing, the smallest thing can be a miracle.
I was once given an analogy about something being the missing piece of a jigsaw, but I’m not sure I’m seeing things as that. I remember as a kid at Christmas I didn’t get a jigsaw, but I got a Batman figure with a retractable belt that could be used to hook on to thinks and winch Batman up. It was amazing. But I remember pulling out Batman’s belt and hooking it on to the fireplace only for it to snap off in my hand. It was not repairable. The full amazingness of my Christmas present was taken away, but I still had Batman and (although it was now more of a challenge) he could still save Gotham even without his retractable belt.
It’s not that one piece makes the rest, but that one piece can lessen the significance of the rest. One part of life might be wrong, but that doesn’t matter as much because another bit is right.
I’m praying for a Christmas Miracle, even something small, and I’m not doing it just for myself – there’s a few things. Things don’t feel that they’re the way they’re meant to be, and this time nothing is telling me I’m wrong. I want to trust my feelings and fight for something important. I’m praying that my lack of facts is going to help me find my Batman in time for Christmas.
Baby you know that
Maybe it’s time for miracles
Time for Miracles by Adam Lambert