Stone Soup: That Other Unspeakable Christmas Story

As Christmas approaches with tinsel and mistletoe adorning every nook and cranny, why would I choose to write about something horrible? The reason is simple, Christmas tells many stories, and not all of them are happy.

So the story of Jesus and his birth tells us all about the three wise men and the manger and no room at the Inn, but we often forget another big part of that story. Herod, King at the time, filled with paranoia and anger, had all the male children under the age of two killed in order that he not be threatened by this new “king” that the magi had foretold.

While baby Jesus slept among the gentle lambs, other children were being ripped from their mother’s arms, according to the bible.

Here’s a brutal truth, and one to remember as we put the little star up in the crèche: suffering never takes a holiday. For some Christmas is a wonderfully joyous time, for others it is a reminder of what was lost.

I attended a holiday party last week and as I sat talking with a woman I had known for years she looked at me and out of the blue said “Hilda would have been 32 this year”. I remembered her little Hilda who died at three years old of Cancer. There are no words for this kind of pain. I said “You must miss her so” and she said “Oh yes, yes I do.”

At that same party was a friend of mine who recently lost her son due to a sports accident, and another couple who lost their only two children in a car accident. To look at them you would never know the little hollow place inside their hearts where a little candle burns, but it’s there.

All of us know someone who has lost a child and no matter how many years pass you can be certain that this loss remains and aches like a sore tooth at Christmas time. While families send Christmas cards with photos of the kids and grand kids, some families are trying to create new traditions in order to assuage the piercing sorrow that threatens to take them under.

What can we do? It’s simple – we can acknowledge the loss and remember the child. That’s a gift we can give, a simple loving gift, and trust me when I say that it’s not one they will get many of. The luxury of just talking about a deceased child is one saved only for a few because most of us can’t summon the courage to bring it up. We are afraid of upsetting the person who suffered the loss, but we forget that the suffering is there, just hidden from view.

Let’s do. Let’s reach out, bring it up, talk about it, create a space to remember. Let’s acknowledge that though this season brings happiness, it also creates shadows of times before when there was a “before”. Let’s allow those who hold these sorrows so close to the heart to exhale a bit, and share the memories of so many holidays past.

It’s a gift that will be greatly appreciated, and one you pray you will never need.

The stories no one talks about