I stood on my tiptoes, reaching for the bin of Christmas ornaments as my mother passed them down from the attic.
“Careful,” she murmured, hesitating to release the plastic box.
Once she trusted me enough with her classic collected treasures, I gently sat them on the ground and cracked open the creaking lid, careful not to disturb the glass inside. My mother’s anxiety was palpable as we unwrapped the delicate ornaments, revealing memory-filled trinkets. A reindeer with thin, curling antlers was the first to appear, followed by a robust, laughing Santa Claus.
Tension lined my mother’s face as she unwrapped each one, and I wondered if she was honest as she confessed the source of her fear: an apprehension that each pull of crinkling paper would reveal shattered glass — it didn’t. I wondered if, more likely, she shared the same fears as I. That, as we opened the boxes of collected decorations, we might unearth the glass cowboy boots, a grief-tinged ornament we couldn’t bear to throw away, no matter how the memories stung.
While the Christmas season is a time for joy and reflection, I cannot help but linger on the bitter images of my father as he left our house for the last time, only three years before. I know I am not alone in my sorrow. Friends, family, and strangers online continually express how the holidays bring a rush of conflicting emotions — joy and grief, hope and despair. Through it all, I am reminded, on this broken path of healing, of those in the Bible who wandered the sorrowful road back toward the heart of the season.
Before my father’s betrayal, I would have spent Christmas Eve on the front row of our church, alongside my siblings, listening to him deliver the beautiful gospel. His voice echoed around the space, the comfort of my childhood, as he urged the congregation to turn toward one another and to share the symbolic flame starting from a single candle. One to another, candles were lit until thousands of tiny flames rivaled the brightness of the sun, or so it seemed to me.
This year, no candles are lit besides the one on my mother’s dining room table. The cadence of my father’s voice as he preached is a fading memory, and his thin, gentle veneer melted like the wax of the candlesticks in the wake of his betrayal. There are no men at Christmas anymore. There is not a father, a grandfather, an uncle, or a cousin. In my abandoned heart, as I wonder how a seemingly loving father could leave — and how so many of my relatives would follow — I cling to my unfailing Jesus, both God and man, and never failing. I look to His Word for those who were forsaken, and I take their strength.
I Called On Your Name
Thousands of years before my grief, the prophet Jeremiah announced himself, claiming,
“I am the man who has seen affliction under the rod of his wrath” (Lam 3:1).
In 587 BC, in the fresh wake of Jerusalem’s fall to Babylon, the weeping prophet bowed low in mourning. Jeremiah begged Jerusalem to return to her first love, but the people were relentless in their sin. When the great city finally fell to her enemies, he documented his grief and that of the people in the Book of Lamentations.
In a downward spiral, Jeremiah recounts the loss of life, the dead who piled like discarded trash inside the city walls, and the young men and women who were taken as possessions by the enemy. The food scarcity and deep fear from the years-long siege blanketed the Holy City in darkness, and Jeremiah turned his bitterness to God. In the picture of mourning and the grieving voice of the people, Jeremiah writes,
My soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happiness is; so I say, “My endurance perished; so has my hope from the Lord.” Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall! My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me (Lam 3:17–20).
The bitterness of man seeped into Jeremiah’s words as he cast his anger upon the Lord, the crippling emptiness of loss overwhelming his faith. Still, the prophet knew his people and that their poor judgment and readiness to sin opened windows of opportunity for their enemies. Humanity failed so magnificently once again, but Jeremiah did not remain in despair.
But This I Call To Mind
In Jeremiah’s poem of lament, the volta — a turn of thought in poetry — arrives when the prophet’s words are most desperate. Following the declaration that his soul is downcast, Jeremiah clings to a distant light that grows brighter in his withered spirit. He writes,
But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him” (Lam 3:21-24).
Like Jeremiah, we are meant to recall the goodness of the Lord and focus our eyes on the hope of his future return. However, the trials of life often overcome those sparks, especially in the holiday season, when loneliness and grief seem to take center stage against the expectations of unity and joy.
Perhaps the answer is not to disregard our grief or to place it on a pedestal and allow it to consume us. As with the lit candles of Christmases in my past, we must search for the sparks of truth, hope, and joy in the wintry chill of pain. We must lift our eyes to the one who knows our grief like it is his own, our Jesus, who took on the pain of the world so that we might find hope in him. This season, while I gather with half of my family to celebrate the birth of Jesus and our togetherness, I will look at the glass boots hanging from the tree. Might I be overcome with sadness? Perhaps. The absence of my father may haunt me like a ghost. In those moments, I will be like Jeremiah, and I will call those things to mind that my soul cannot afford to forget.
Beautifully typed up. I understand what it’s like to feel and be broken from a parent. I’m 43 now and it took me many years to forgive my father and for the Lord to restore my heart. Although, my part was to allow for restoration to take place once I forgave and wanted to move on. Only the Lord can provide such healing, joy, and peace. I was part of your father’s church for many years and he even baptized me. I saw you kiddos grow up and you are all beautiful and the Lord has his hand on you all. Thank you for sharing and God bless you. Happy holidays to you and your family.
So good.🤍
So beautifully written. Thank you for sharing such a raw emotion. May God rest all of our souls.
I was a part of your father’s church and his betrayal hurt all of us as well. My father did the same to my family so I know your pain. This was beautiful, thank you so much for sharing!
This is so beautiful, I love how you constantly emphasize that grief is not forever and we can choose to look upon Jesus who carries all our grief.
Day by day. Thank you for the reminder of the tension of blessings & hope and the despair of humans who simply suck & the shit they have done!
May you keep lighting candles inside and outside your soul. It matters so much for you to keep speaking God’s truth with yours.
Mom’s are amazing and I’m glad they are not defined by anyone to detail how they ought to be.
As a single mom of three girls and having dealt with my own betrayal from a man I thought would be my forever. This moved me. I could feel this deep in my bones. Thank you for sharing.
So beautifully written and so abundantly true. This season always brings a mixed bag of emotions. I am glad you are able to draw from the Bible teachings and mercies are new each morning! God continue to guide you all and provide peace and comfort especially in your downtrodden moments.
Beautifully executed, thank you for sharing this with us. I hear you 🖤
This is so beautifully written and I know your words will help so many. I’m so proud of you for always being willing to express your vulnerability and I’m grateful to God for your talent. You are an amazing writer.
So beautifully written.
So beautiful, Jayden! 🥹😭❤️ Thanks for sharing!
So beautifully written. I cannot imagine the pain y’all have been through. I am glad y’all have remained strong and steadfast and love each other so well.
Though your father’s presence is missed, remember that the flicker of a single candle can illuminate the darkest corners. Lean into the love of Christ, which shines brighter than any betrayal.
May you find peace as you navigate this journey of healing, uncovering new traditions and moments of joy. Keep shining your light, it’s a gift to us all.
I love you all very much! I went through the same as you when my daddy left mama with 4 kids for his mistress. He tried to make it work with us but it never did. My mama hurt for a long time while his mistress-turned wife never felt bad about what she had done. In time my relationship with my daddy was restored, but it was a very long time. He didn’t get to meet my oldest daughter until she was 3. I understand the pain you have gone though because I was 18 at the time, close to the same age as you. Even though half of your family will celebrate TOGETHER, remember you still have aunts and uncles that love you dearly and wish we could be with yall❤️. I love you so much! Beautiful writing, sweet Jayden….you deserve the best! God sees. God hears. God blesses. God restores. Love, Aunt T
Jayden, your writing is moving and so well done. I’ve known all of you most of your lives and watch from afar. How beautiful to see you as a young woman that is refusing to allow this pain to win. I’ve seen similar heartbreak in my life and your words touch me deeply.
You are so talented. We know this because your writing actually touches the reader. Thank you for sharing your experience and feelings and your openness to always return/turn to God. Merry Christmas!
So sorry for the betrayal and pain your dad caused. Great article
This is so beautiful. Thank you for sharing what God has put on your heart. I pray that you feel moments of Joy in the midst of your pain that only God can give. May he restore everything that was stolen from you. In Jesus name.
Absolutely beautiful, just like you 🩷
Praying for you and your family this holiday. Thanks for opening your heart to us again and being so vulnerable. You are so courageous and have an amazing gift. If you release a book someday, I’ll definitely buy it! 🫶🏻
My kids and I went through that years ago. My boys are now men and I’ve seen how their father’s betrayal changed our lives forever. Till this day we are still healing and God has done amazing things in our lives as He will do in all of yours. You all speaking about it will make it easier to move forward. This was beautifully written and I congratulate you for being so brave.
I was reminded this week that Shepherd used to live amongst their flock. Forsaking all social norms, they would look and smell awful in order to protect and be with their sheep. I would encourage you this Christmas, as you glance at the boots of the father that chose to leave, may you be reminded of the Father that chose to stay, dwell, and live amongst His flock. I pray that the pain (though I wish you didn’t have to ever have any) remind you of the Good Shepherd – the one that will always stay.
Beautifully written – what a reminder to all of us where to turn in our grief and suffering. Thanks for sharing your words with us, even with how painfully they were forged.
This is beautifully written and touched me deeply even though I haven’t lived it. I admire your courage to speak you’re truth and pray that God continues to restore your family.
Wow, wow, wow! Chills 🥹 so beautifully written!
One of the things I like about Russell Brand is the same thing I enjoy about you. As soon as you open your mouth to speak (or write), you use a combination of words to articulate thoughts/feelings that I couldn’t anticipate. I don’t know what you’re going to say next. You’re so interesting. A master of language. Well done on this, I really felt it & congrats on being published.
Beautiful, just so beautiful!!
I pray God continue to give you the words to articulate such pain and sorrow with grace. This is powerful, moving, and NEEDED. Thank you for your bravery. Don’t let anyone silence you, your voice on this will bring healing to others. Thank you Jayden, Merry Christmas!