Peace on Earth: How Hardship Brought Healing this Christmas

As we draw near the end of another year, I'm struck by the grace God has shown me, particularly amid sorrow and in defiance of suffering.

Shortly before Thanksgiving, my husband lost his job. While disappointing and stressful, it set in motion a series of events which resulted in a remarkable Christmas for our family.

This story will start out rather sad, but it ends happy, I promise.

As a child, my dad was frequently unemployed. Part of this was due to the rapidly changing industry he was in, but also, he didn’t make friends easily.

After he lost his tenure at the university, we went through a long season of unemployment. When he finally got a job, he moved to Austin. For about six months, my mom and us kids stayed behind in Memphis to sell our house and pack. It must have been an incredibly difficult time for my mom, because she was pregnant and had three children, ages nine, five, and three. I was the oldest.

My family lived in Austin for roughly two years before dad was laid off again. This time (and, because I was a child at the time, my dates are a bit hazy) he was unemployed for nearly a year. I don’t know how we paid rent. I know that a friend from church covered my piano lessons for a year. I know that some other friends from church bought us a new vacuum after visiting our house and realizing we hadn’t been able to clean the carpet in several months.

After dad got a new job, we moved to Santa Clarita, California. I was 13 by this time, so moving away from all my friends was hard. Not long after we moved, dad was let go again. This time, he got another job in the area, but not long after, was let go again.

I remember standing in the kitchen and hearing the front door open and close. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and far too early for him to be home.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I got laid off,” he said.

I ran to him, and we hugged, and I cried.

To be honest, that’s the only time I remember my dad hugging me. He was not an affectionate man. I don’t remember sitting on his lap when I was little. I don’t remember him reading books to me. I don’t remember him tucking me into bed, tying my shoes, or kissing bruises. I vaguely remember him reading the Bible to us up until I was about 10, but after that, something changed, and he stopped.

But even on that afternoon in California, he seemed unemotional. I’m sure he must have felt sad or anxious or at least frustrated, but as we hugged, I remember thinking that I couldn’t tell how he felt at all. It was as if he was indifferent or emotionally turned off to what was happening and to how I was feeling.

And so, as I stood in the kitchen a few days before Thanksgiving, Jason told me, “I got laid off.”

It was a cold and windy day, but my mind immediately went to California. The sense of uncertainty, loss, and “here we go again” washed over me as if my childhood had only been yesterday. But as Jason hugged me, he was warm and caring. He was emotionally in-tune with me and concerned for our family. He was determined to take care of us and provide for us. He was confident that he’d have a new job soon. We were safe. We were one. We were not alone.

Over the coming weeks I watched my husband worked incredibly hard, sometimes finagling three or four interviews in a single day. He listed one of his guitars for sale online. He discussed getting a job as a waiter in the evenings so we could afford Christmas gifts for the kids.

Our daughters, ages 10, 8, and 6, took the news as well as could be expected.

“Until Daddy gets a new job,” I told them as we sat around the dinner table one evening, “we’re going to cut as many expenses as we can. So, no more eating out, or going to the movies, and Mommy and Daddy may get part time jobs, at least until he finds something full time.”

“Will we have to move?” my 10-year-old asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “We might if he gets a job far away.”

“Will we be able to stay in school?” my 8-year-old asked.

“Definitely,” I said, “but if we move you might go to a different school.”

“I don’t want to go to a different school,” my 6-year-old said sadly.

Suddenly, my 10-year-old lit up with a smile.

“I know!” she said. “What if we do a hot chocolate stand, kind of like a lemonade stand but for winter, and we can raise money to buy each other Christmas gifts?”

My heart felt a pang of guilt and anxiety. I desperately wanted to provide for them, but while we were still planning on getting them gifts, it was definitely going to be a frugal year. Then it occurred to me: They want to help. Let them pitch in and support each other through this time. Let them shine.

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” I replied. “But it’s cold and rainy outside, so I don’t think a hot chocolate stand will work. What about cookies? We could bake Christmas cookies and I could post about them on our neighborhood Facebook page.”

“Yes!” said my 8-year-old, jumping excitedly. “Chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies!”

“And pies!” my 10-year-old added, jumping up and down.

“And cookies!” my 6-year-old reiterated, clasping her little hands.

“OK!” I laughed, “but if we do this, you guys have to promise me you’ll help with all the baking and cleaning the kitchen.”

All three solemnly promised. Thanks to many kind neighbors, by Thanksgiving Day, my girls had raised enough money to buy each other multiple gifts. A few friends on Twitter also bought treats for shut-ins, and an anonymous friend from church sent us a generous gift that covered groceries and bills for several weeks.

“Mommy, are we rich?” gasped my 6-year-old.

“Yes, baby,” I said. “We are very rich.”

“So, you don’t have to get a job now?” she asked.

“We do,” I replied. “But it’s OK, because I know that God loves me. Do you know how? Because he gave me you three to be my daughters.”

During that week before Thanksgiving, the girls and I baked over 20 pies and 350 cookies. They kept their promise and helped as much as one can reasonably expect young children to help.

Shortly before Christmas, Jason got a job offer. His new job is close enough to home that we don’t have to move. The girls can stay in their school. Our family can stay in our church.

But most importantly, I’ve learned that no matter what happens, my husband is with me. He’s a far better dad to our little ladies than I could have ever imagined to wish for. He’s a compassionate husband, faithful friend, sacrificial provider, and stark contrast to my father.

At 21-years-old, when I married Jason, I didn’t know what love was. Not really. I certainly didn’t know what a caring father or supportive husband looked like. It was purely God’s mercy that we met, and purely God’s grace that Jason was saved to grow into the godly example of Jesus that he is today. Based on my own understanding and experience, I’d likely have picked a cold and inept husband, continuing the cycle of abuse in my family.

But God had other plans.

2,023 years ago, God interrupted human history, intervening in our world as a little baby. In a similar way, God interrupted the course of my life, working his Spirit in my world – not only through my own faith – but through the faith of my husband and three little girls.

Our daughters are proof of God’s dedicated involvement in our lives and our marriage. Their innovation, love for one another, self-sacrifice, and thoughtfulness are all a reflection of the adoration God has for us. We don’t have a faraway God who is disinterested, uninvolved, uncaring, or unfaithful. We have a God who is right here with us, overflowing from our hearts, and filling the space all around us with joy.

As we enter this New Year, I can say with confidence:

His ways are not our ways.
His thoughts are not our thoughts.
As far as the heavens are above the earth,
So his ways are higher than ours,
And his thoughts are higher than our thoughts.
Just as rain and snow come down from heaven,
And do not return there before watering the earth,
So God’s Word was sent down into the world,
And did not return to Heaven emptyhanded,
Without accomplishing what he desired,
Or succeeding in the purpose for which he was sent.
So we go forward with joy, led in peace.
The mountains and hills break into song before us,
And all the trees clap their hands for joy.*

His plans are perfect, ordained before time, to defy every evil, to bless through every suffering, to work all things together for the good of those who love him.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

Much love,

Jenn

*A paraphrase of Isaiah 55:8-12