Happy Christmas, With Sympathy

'The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death, a light has dawned.' Isaiah 9:2

Yesterday was Dad's funeral. Today I'm grateful for so many things, and have listed some of them in this blog. If you want to skip the personal stuff, and read what I said about the strange experience of having Christmas cards and 'With Sympathy' cards dropping through your letterbox at the same time, then feel free to scroll down!


The personal (Hough) stuff:
I'm reflecting on yesterday, and am deeply thankful for so many things - below is an attempt to list some of them... 

• For the number of people who attended, some from a distance, to take part part in remembering Pete's life;
• For the stories that were shared from his time in Staffs CID, reflecting the strong camaraderie that he shared with his team, and the high regard in which they clearly held him. 'This is the end of an era' said one;
• For the awesome dedication of the nursing and care team at Rider House where he spent his last few months, and 'Home Instead' who looked after him at home before that. 'Care' covers a multitude of unspeakable things (!), and as we've watched Dad's health deteriorate, his dignity has been maintained by some amazing people who do this job day and night. They clearly don't do it for the money;
• For the fact that despite being spread all over the country, my brother and sister and I, along with our (adult!) kids, have been drawn closer to one another and to our Mum through this whole experience of Dad's illness, death and gathering for his funeral;
• For Mary and Derrick, who have been 'there' when we weren't able to be;
• For Libby, who has had to bear with me, and was standing right in front of me as I took the funeral yesterday. I'm useless at telling her how amazing she is, and how much I love her;
• For Esme and Fergus who made me proud yesterday for different reasons;
• For Mum, who has been constantly concerned for him since his stroke in 2006, and has cared for him at some cost to her own health in the last chapter of their 59 years of marriage ;
• Finally for Dad, who loved us more than he could ever find words to describe, and who taught me the importance of family, forgiveness and football... 

Here is the text of my address:

It’s a strange time when Christmas cards mingle with sympathy cards dropping through your letterbox.  What do you do with them? Do they belong together, or in two separate rooms? Christmas celebrations and grieving certainly feel as though they belong in different compartments of your mind.

Christmas intensifies everything, just as bereavement does. The loss of someone you love feels particularly painful at this time of year. Christmas lights and festive cheer can feel hollow.

But lights and Christmas have gone together since the beginning, for good reason. Christmas has always been about light shining in the darkness. Not the kind of light that you store away in the loft and get out once a year, but a better and brighter light by far.

At  Carol services all around the country these words, first spoken by the prophet Isaiah, will be read:The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death, a light has dawned.

Darkness and death are often synonymous in the bible, as are light and life. And Christmas tells of light shining in the darkness; of the birth of a child who has come as light from heaven to overcome the shadow of death.

When John, one of Jesus’ biographers in the Bible, wants to explain what has happened in the coming of Jesus he begins by saying: The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John's story ends with an empty tomb, and another announcement: He is not here, he is risen! The good news that John wants to tell us is that light has overcome darkness as Jesus lived, died and was raised to life again to defeat our greatest enemy, the thing that casts the greatest shadow over our lives - death.

John also records these words of Jesus for us:  ‘I am the light of the world…Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.’  ‘I am the resurrection and the life, whoever believes in me will live, even though they die.’ 

If we get beyond the shallow, commercial celebrations of Christmas, and go to the meaning of it all, then Christmas cards and sympathy cards do belong together, because one of them speaks very powerfully to the other:  Jesus Christ, born into a world darkened by the shadow of death, offers light in our darkness. The light of life.

So this service like every Christian funeral service is filled with hope because it points us to Jesus Christ: light come into the world to dispel the shadow of death by being raised from death to everlasting life.  And it is in that hope that we will in a moment commit Pete to the God who gave him life and has now taken him to be with himself.

On a personal note: A new date has landed in the diary for some of us. 6^th December – the day we stood around my Dad’s bed and said goodbye to him. For me that date will forever be a day on which I remember my dad and give thanks to the God who gave him life. And arriving just before Christmas as it does, I hope that date will prepare me to celebrate the wonderful good news of Christmas each year in a deeper and richer way. I invite you to do the same, and to find this hope for yourselves.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death, a light has dawned.