Summer of 2021, after months and months apart, I was finally allowed to visit my ailing mother in person at the nursing/rehab center that Mom was in when the pandemic hit. She had a broken back and was thus in physical agony most all the time, and she’d been diagnosed with Lewy Body dementia. Though her mind could still be incredibly sharp at times, she would often forget the names of things and would have to describe them to me; then I would guess what she meant. Just before that first visit, I asked Mom what I could bring her and her response was, “I want some of that cheese with the holes in it. You know what I’m talking about. What’s it called, Angie?” “Swiss cheese, Mom? Is that what you mean? Swiss has holes in it.” I then heard from her a firm, “Yes! That’s it! That’s what I want. I’ve been craving that for some reason. Swiss cheese!”
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom’s cheese description. I’ve been thinking a lot about how I knew immediately which cheese she was asking for that day. I knew because of the holes. Those holes were the perfect clue; and yes, I realize the irony as I type this—holes in things are not generally connected with the word “perfect.” Holes tend to be viewed as deficits. “There’s a hole in your logic,” people might say. “You have a hole in the seat of your pants (and not the trendy kind).” “The rice is spilling out of the bag; there must be a hole in it.” And no one wants obvious holes, or bare spots, in their Christmas tree or in their beehive hair-do (my late mother hated it when that happened back in the day). But the holes that my mom told me about last summer were not imperfections at all; those holes were positively defining. And in this season of Advent, as I reflect on what has felt like another most challenging year, I see a lot of holes in a lot of the lives around me; and while my heart hurts profoundly at the thought of them, my faith is urging me on to not lose hope.
As hard as it is to stomach sometimes, I’ve surely learned over the years that the parts of our lives that seem full of holes are the ones that also seem to most define us. The people whom we treasured that have passed on, the children that we were never able to have, the children that we do have but that struggle with hard things we never thought they would, the relationships that we hoped for but that fell apart or that never even happened at all, the careers that we stepped away from for the sake of someone else, the health and vitality that we assumed we’d have until very old age but then didn’t, and all those other dreams that we’ve spent our lives yearning for yet still see no evidence of them on our horizon are just a few of the holes that I see and feel—and I know that I’m not alone.
There’s something about this season that makes those holes so much more palpable. Yes, there’s so much light and color and joy and smells and sounds all around us and yet there are many, many undeniable holes. And just like that cheese that my mom asked me for, I believe that those holes can tell us and others more about who we really are than anything else can. Yet, so many of us steer clear of such things, the things we view as “bad” or unpleasant or hard, especially during this season. But the One whose coming we are celebrating never stayed away from the hard stuff, never feigned joy just to make others feel better, never, ever looked away from any of the holes of humanity; and he knew firsthand that holes lead to scars and that scars are a roadmap to our souls. Nobody down here in this realm understands holes better than the God who chose to step out of his Heaven to become a real part of our humanity.
This holiday season, as heavy as life might feel now, I’m going to try to view those holes in as positive a light as possible—I’m going to try to be thankful for how they have and how they continue to define (or perhaps redefine) me. And I’m going to try to not look away from the hard stuff that those around me are trying to find their way through. That’s just not who and how Christ was when he came here all those years ago, so I don’t think that’s who and how we’re supposed to be either. And if those holes do start to overwhelm me, I will probably (and unapologetically so) jump into yet another “cheesy” Hallmark Christmas movie for a little while; and yes, I do believe that God understands the need for such things. And to try to focus/center myself each morning of this season, I’ll keep trying to listen to a version of “O Holy Night,” my favorite Christmas song and one with words that are a real mix of holes and hope.
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