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This holiday season has got me wondering if... you or I, or any of us really try to understand what other people are dealing with? Is it really possible to put ourselves in other people's shoes? It's a common theme of the broken- hearted..."No one understands me!" And I'm wondering...could they be right?

I began asking myself that question...the last few months. I ended up in several situations where I was definitely confused and wished for understanding. Why would someone say something so hurtful? Are they confused, or do they just not understand?

When someone opens themselves up and uncovers their harsh reality, are we listening? I mean, without judging, before we know the whole story? The way this first started...right before Thanksgiving, Britton and I were listening to Pentatonix sing "Mary Did You know? And for whatever reason, my mind spun back to that well-known moment in time. The birth of the King of the World. What would it be like to have been the teenage Mary, and for that matter, Joseph?

Mary was a young girl, innocent. From a good family, and from what we know, she was well liked, honest, forthright, and upstanding. (Those are some "old school" words, but they fit.) Joseph was a solid man. Most likely in his early 30s. Decent job, preparing to marry. All was right with their worlds.

But whoa, did their life get rocked? An angel comes...and in moments, Mary has conceived, "The Son of God." She agreed to it, accepted that it was what God was asking of her. "Let it be according to your word." Luke 1:38.

It was a miracle.

But then I had to ask myself. Who believed Mary when her tummy began to show? Did she tell her mother, her best friend? Can you imagine sharing that story? Knowing that before you had all the words out of your mouth...the listener would be shaking their disbelieving head. Were people just more believing all those years ago...or...are people just people?

Mary was judged...we know this. The bible is clear about that. She was brave enough to choose God's will over a much easier path. Did she watch her belly grow in wonder? Or did she cry herself to sleep at night, wishing she had refused? I shudder to consider what could've happened had she said no.

Then I began to wonder if she went to visit her relative Elizabeth because the scorn and the scandal became too much to bear? She had to escape. The gossip, the judgments, the wagging tongues. I envision her avoiding walking to the well during the early mornings. Anything to avoid the squinted eyes and hateful comments of the women that observed she was "in the family way."

And her betrothed? Joseph was going to give in to the pressure to "put her away." He didn't know what else to do. He wanted to keep it private. He did not want to make an example of her. But, his family and friends were determined that he not marry a girl that had compromised herself. He was anguished and heartbroken. He most likely would've done what they asked, but then he had a dream.

The past year has been something else. Lots of adjectives come to mind, but I'm not sure if any of them would explain...or help you understand where I'm coming from. I got sick, really sick. ER visits, hospital stays and countless trips to doctors.

But God...I don't honestly know how i got better, other than we prayed. Our church prayed, our family prayed. At one point I weighed 104lbs. I was skin and bones and it was scary. For months people would say, "you've lost weight you look so good." But after a while...it wasn't so good anymore.

On my worst days, I struggled to stand, my body shaking with weakness. One doctor put me in a wheelchair and pushed me to the ER himself. No one knew what was happening to me... But he actually said, "I don't know what is going on, but we have to figure it out!" He was desperate to understand. Thank God for people who don't understand, but are desperate to.

My son, Britton, had over 152 seizures while all that was happening to me....I know the number because I was asked to write each seizure on a calender. I was struggling to remember them all for the doctor. Sleep deprivation is no good for anyone and it erases your memory.

The seizures usually occur in the dead of night, or during the wee hours of the morning...Subsequently, I don't get a lot of sleep. You may be nodding your head. We all understand what it feels like to miss a good night's sleep, or even struggle with insomnia. But trust me when I tell you that 152 nights of broken sleep, and only three or four hours of sleep after that... takes sleep deprivation to a whole new level of crazy town.

By crazy town, I mean, I forgot where I was sometimes when driving. I fell asleep at traffic lights. Unable to make it home, I pulled into parking lots and "napped" for a few minutes. Those things were definitely frightening...But my soul hurt, and my spirit cried out...because sometimes I'd realize I was not gracious to others...when they needed my understanding, I just couldn't see them past my suffering. Some days I was cranky and on edge. I was so far past believing I would be able to eat again, I stopped caring, I just wanted sleep, almost as much as I wanted air.

I read somewhere that sleep deprivation is a form of torture. Google says it's used by every single government during interrogation. I'm not sure what all that entails, and though I may not be an expert, I can vouch for the fact that sleep deprivation will change not only your tolerance level, your ability to pay attention. I'm solid that if you keep me awake long enough, I will definitely tell you anything you want to know...even if I have to make it up.

I was asking Britton how he feels when the seizures feel imminent. He usually knows they're coming. I don't know how he knows. He's never been able to explain it in words. Mostly he just takes to his bed, and hunkers down till the worst is over. But he did reply a few months ago. Telling me that I couldn't possibly understand. He gave me permission to include his words...

"U can't know Momma. It's too much for you. Too much for real boys-for brave boys to tell. How can other people know what real boys live? How can they feel? Can they understand? Can you? Would understanding change anything?" *punctuation is mine

I told him that for me... even though understanding doesn't change our situations...Understanding makes us feel seen and heard. Being understood can ease our pain. And we feel less alone. He had nothing to "say" to that.

On the hardest days, when I'm vacillating between tears and hysterics, I pray for my brain to clear and help me think. But there were days that I was too emotionally spent and exhausted to do more than react. I didn't handle those days with the grace I wish for, and I'm not proud of myself for it. How I wish I could explain and someone would want to understand.

I've been able to eat since the middle of June last year...doctors tried all their potions, but it was God that changed everything.

We still don't get sleep like other people...and I know that's bad for my health. I do what I can to try and stay healthy. I eat well; I exercise. (YES, I have built back so much strength I am still amazed)

This past week I was about to lose patience with someone who was totally unaware that I was a boiling teapot about to blow. They rattled on and I anxiously tapped my foot, wrung my hands...they were oblivious to the body language. To God's credit, I was able to get a grip, take a breath, and calm down. I had not slept the night before, but I'm relatively used to it...but I suppose the years take their toll.

And it was that moment, when I got hold of myself...that's when I started wondering....how many people pass through our lives plodding through their own "dark night of the soul?" Pushing through dialysis while waiting for a kidney. Holding strong when a parent, a child, a best friend loses their battle with seizures, cancer, depression, alcohol or drugs?

Do we react, do we pass judgment, or do we at attempt to understand? It's a fair question...certainly in this month of celebrating the birth of the Savior of the world. We celebrate "Peace on earth and good will to ALL MEN." While trying to exercise patience with family members/friends that push their opinions over Christmas dinner. We don't understand, and if we are being honest...we don't want to...But could we try? Would Jesus try?

When I go to Him in prayer and I ask Him for understanding...He has never turned His back on me. Never said, "you're too much, and you're wrong, and I don't want to deal with you." I'm not saying there aren't boundaries. I hear you, some things are not negotiable. But before love is anything else...love is patient, and love is kind. It's a good moment to remember those words.

So when you're slicing the ham and listening to a monologue of political discontent, or social injustice...maybe pause. Remember that when you need someone to understand, Jesus never refuses you. And in that moment, grace will flow like a river...and you will find yourself singing, "Joy to the World." Because God never asks us to understand Him, He asked us to be like Him.

Merry Christmas!

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