Cherie Call, a renowned LDS singer/songwriter once wrote, “There’s something about this time of year that just tears me up inside because Jesus was born and He lived and He died for broken hearts like mine.”
Christmastime is my favorite time of year — it really is — but I find myself so often very blue. I’m sure it begins with seasonal depression (or, more likely in my case, major depression that’s enhanced by the season, and don’t worry, I’m popping Vitamin D like it’s candy these days). And it’s hard to be an HSP with strong empathic tendencies — though I tend to feel this way year-round, I am especially heartbroken over those who are homeless or desperately in need. I find myself in a bit of a dichotomy where I would appreciate it if everyone around me showered me with gifts beginning December 1st and not stopping till February 23rd (my birthday) but would also like to sell all my belongings so that I can donate coats and blankets and toys and food and jobs and cars and homes. We do our part, but it doesn’t feel like enough (I mean, what IS enough anyhow? Is there a scale?). The other day, as my husband and I were walking the dog (on the world’s shortest walk because it is all of a sudden winter here in the east coast, despite being in the 60s well past Thanksgiving), I told him I wished I were wealthy enough to buy hundreds of the coat I was wearing (a down-filled, quilted Columbia Sportswear that is literally the warmest, coziest thing I own and keeps me not only sufficiently warm but actually, most of the time, too hot it’s so well-insulated) and hand them out to every homeless person I saw. I’ve been imagining a life where I could walk into a store and buy out their entire winter stock and clothe the naked and then go to the grocery store and feed the hungry.
I wish, I wish, I wish.
I suppose God made me this way for a reason. There’s a lesson to be learned, I’m sure, because He appears to be big on learning lessons. And this broken heart I’ve been given can, in fact, be mended. In Isaiah 61:1, it says, “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; … he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted …”, and in these few words is prophetic counsel: if we live in such a manner that we might feel of His Spirit and love, He will strengthen our hearts. (Although I am struck by the thought that strengthening my broken heart is not necessarily the same thing as fixing it altogether, and there is the possibility that I have always been to live with a broken heart so that I might empathize better with others.)
I don’t always feel this somber — I will likely wake up in the morning and feel all too excited at the prospect that it will FINALLY be the day Pandora plays “Marshmallow World” (I know — I should just buy the song and play it on repeat), and my Christmas tree will make me feel joyous, and I’ll plan out Husband’s presents and buy my parents a card and I’ll be temporarily bandaged up rather than feeling torn up inside. Because what a beautiful season, what a sense of celebration I ought to have that Christ was born for you and for me.
Unapologetically Mary 