The Nelson Family Indonesia

Quoting the Rolling Stones for Christmas is inarguably unorthodox, to say the least. But that theme (rather than the song) has been heavy and prominent in this, our second Christmas in Indonesia.

Things don’t go according to plan. Sometimes you don’t have a plan. Other times you have a plan and it doesn’t matter because it isn’t going to work out. And yet, despite lacking what you want, by the grace of God the Father in the infant Son of God in the manger who goes on to hang upon the cross and crack open the tomb and the gates of hell itself, we have and you have what you need.

Mika is back in the US now and it’s our first Christmas not all together as family. This has hit me a bit harder than I expected. I wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s on her way, moving towards her goals and that’s what parents are supposed to do – raise kids who move out into lives they have to figure out for themselves and are hopefully capable of doing so. We’re fiercely proud of her (as well as our boys who are still with us for the moment), but it’s hard to be apart. Despite knowing it’s right and good and healthy, we still want what we want. 

And with that change in our family make-up many of our other traditions have come to a sudden halt. No need to wake up at the crack of dawn. No need to engage in the pre-morning rituals I have undertaken for the last 23 years. Many of the pieces are still there. But timing and urgency and arrangement have all shuffled and jiggled around like the leftovers of Christmas Jell-O being poured into leftovers container. 

Kind of like trying to take a family Christmas picture with an 8-month old dog.

It didn’t quite go as planned. We had hoped to recreate our Christmas picture from last year. But without Mika and while holding our dog instead of Caedmon. An amazingly good idea if you ask me (I think it might have been my idea. I’m going to claim it). And we worked valiantly towards it. Well, at least most of us did. Kahlua wasn’t alive last Christmas and the overall intent seems lost on her. 

Unlike the intent to escape, which is crystal clear for her.

As it remained clear for the next dozen or so attempts we made to realize our goal. She wasn’t having it. Nope. 

So what do you do when things don’t go the way you want? When the traditions you cherished are all different and more or less gone on the other side of a planet and another time of life? How do you cope with the loss of things that aren’t really all that important and yet have become important because of who we are as creatures made for a physical as well as spiritual reality? Who find comfort (appropriately) in repetition and cycles, in seasons and traditions? 

It’s easy to tell yourself (or someone else) to get over it. To move on. To let go. To focus on Jesus and the reason for the season and many other true and relevant things. Not terribly helpful though. Not in the moment. Not in the wilderness where you scan the horizon for the old familiarities but find only strange formations and features. Not when you miss someone or somethings. In the midst of that you can sit with someone. Hold their hand. Say little. Pray much. Until little by little the time will come for saying those things, if they still need to be said. For walking alongside holding hands and arms if necessary and desired. Trusting in the Great Physician who heals so much more completely than we can even imagine, if we allow him his timing and ways of doing so. 

And ultimately, you adapt. You recreate. You modify. You shift expectations and goals away from what once was and towards what is now. You find that pain has a form and shape of beauty all its own in this now-and-not-yet creation. You trust that the God who created you and redeemed you and is miraculously (if oftentimes imperceptibly) sanctifying you is with you always. In what was, what is, and mercifully what shall yet be. 

Adapting is messy, but it can be beautiful as well. 

Thank you for being part of our family journey and the larger journey of faith of a Church and a Gospel to be proclaimed over and over and over again in myriad places and languages and situations. Thank you for your prayers that sustain us and propel us. So Merry Christmas, from the Nelsons in Medan and Gilbert. Indonesia and America. Together yet separated. Struggling but not without joy and hope and comfort. May the glad tidings of great joy still echo in your hearts and ears as they do in ours, until that time and day when we will join that angel choir in perfect harmony, unity, peace, joy, and love forever and ever.

(And if you’d like to sample the actual soundtrack I’ve found so beautiful and amazing this different Advent and Christmas season, familiar and yet with an edge of unfamiliarity that is at times breathtaking, give a listen to this Christmas effort from one of our favorite bands, the Oh Hellos. They are not Bing Crosby or Mannheim Steamroller [both of which I also love!] but I appreciate how they reimagine old favorites and infuse them with an energy and excitement I look forward to sharing when our Lord returns!)