This Holiday Season, Let’s Notice Who Isn’t Celebrating

By Joshua Becker

“If you see someone moving a little slower this season, be gentle. Grief gets heavier in December.”

December carries a reputation for being “the most wonderful time of the year.” And for many of us, it is—a month filled with lights and music, prized relationships and familiar traditions.

But it is also true, behind the celebrations, December is one of the heaviest months for many people.

In fact, 60% of people say their anxiety or depression worsens in December. Equally significant, despite the festive atmosphere, nearly 9 in 10 adults feel stress this time of year. What is billed as the most joyful season of the year may actually be the hardest for someone close to you right now.

Grief hits harder in December. Stress becomes more intense. Loneliness feels more present. Loss becomes impossible to ignore. And family strife feels constantly present. 

The pain gets worse—all while Christmas songs play on repeat.

And maybe, this year, we would all be wise to slow down long enough to look around, notice who isn’t celebrating, and love them as best we can.

If you know someone who lost a loved one this year: A spouse. A parent. A friend. A child. Be thoughtful. 

The first holiday season after loss is almost indescribable. The “first” everything after loss can be painful: the first anniversary, the first birthday, the first start of the school year… and among that list: the first holiday season without a loved one. 

So please, think back through the year, and share some extra love with those you love who lost a loved one this year. For someone grieving, even a simple “I’m thinking of you today” can mean more than we realize.

Loneliness can also feel elevated during the month of December and holiday season. Be a friend to someone who is alone: The widow down the street. The coworker who moved to a new city. The friend whose kids are grown and far away. Or the divorced spouse who moved into the apartment next to yours.

Loneliness is always hard, but it is especially hard in December. In fact, 66% of us report feeling lonely during the holidays! That’s a lot of people who need a friend right now, today, as you’re reading this. Be the friend they need.

Let’s notice those who are weary and tired: The single mom. The foster parent. The parents of a child with special needs. The caregiver for an aging parent or spouse. Those who continue to battle chronic illness and wish so much they could serve others this season but are physically unable to do so. 

Put yourself in their shoes for just a bit. I mean, even those of us who are healthy and well feel drained by the end of December. So let’s show compassion and care and do what we can to ease the burden of those already carrying so much.

And there are more people that we need to notice this time of year: The coworker who got laid off. The friend with an unsupportive family. The child with parents in prison. The financially struggling. The parent ripped apart by family tension and estranged relationships.

Our world needs love this holiday season. Let’s be the ones to provide 

Show the same diligence so as to realize the full assurance of the hope to the very end, so that you may not become sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises. (Hebrews 6:11-12 NRSV)

Show the same diligence so as to realize the full assurance of the hope to the very end, so that you may not become sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises. (Hebrews 6:11-12 NRSV)

With gratitude to Christina Lorey —

In my church, we often sing a song called “All Are Welcome,” but sadly, that’s not true. Catholicism excludes MANY people.

But in other denominations, that’s thankfully changing…

In a tiny Kansas town, Rev. Lora Andrews posed a question to her congregation:

“What systems today would have Jesus flipping tables?”

Immigration raids, said one attendee.

Health care costs, said another.

“Billionaires,” said a third.

“Tax cuts for the ultra-wealthy? He would not stand for that,” said another.

The question was an opportunity for Andrews, an ordained elder in the United Methodist Church, to focus her small but growing flock on the ways that their new congregation, which she calls Roots, can be an oasis of progressive values.

Roots goes beyond merely welcoming young, liberal, diverse worshipers, Andrews said.

The church strives to make their congregants’ experiences, including acknowledgment of harms the church may have caused in the past, central to its services.

Christa Cooper, who was raised Presbyterian, married and divorced a man before coming out as queer at age 45. At the first Roots service she attended, Cooper said she wept as congregants sang along to Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club.”

“This is the church l’ve been waiting for my whole life,” she said.

: The Washington Post

— What say you? RSVP

Show the same diligence so as to realize the full assurance of the hope to the very end, so that you may not become sluggish, but imitate those who through faith and patience inherit the promises. (Hebrews 6:11-12)

Bible summary:

God loves you!

COPIED —-

My name is Teresa. I’m 75 years old and I live alone in a small apartment in Bologna.
Since I retired, more than ten years ago, my life has grown increasingly silent. At first, I thought: “Finally, some time for myself.”
I imagined myself calmly embroidering, strolling through Margherita Park, taking that painting class I’d always wanted.
But day after day, the silence began to weigh more than any tiredness I had ever known.

I have two children: Marco lives in Milan, Chiara in Naples. Each with their own family, their own commitments, their own lives. I truly understand that.
But sometimes I feel as if I’ve been forgotten.

My grandchildren have grown up far from me.
I’ve never taken them to school, never baked a cake with them, never told them a bedtime story.
They’ve never invited me to a party or a Sunday together. Not even once.

Once I asked my daughter:
“Why don’t you want me to visit? I could help with the children…”
And she replied, her voice calm but cold:
“Mum, you know… My husband isn’t very fond of you. You always meddle, you have that way about you…”
I stayed quiet. It hurt.
Because I didn’t want to impose, only to be near. But the message was clear: “You’re not welcome.”

My ex-husband lives in a small town nearby. We haven’t seen each other for years. At Christmas, maybe a message. Cold. Mechanical.

And here I am, in Bologna.
My days all look alike: I wake up early, sweep the balcony, go buy bread, cook just for myself. I leave the television on, just to hear some voices in the house.

At first, I thought it was just a phase. But then strange symptoms arrived: palpitations, dizziness, fear of dying alone in my sleep.
I’ve seen so many doctors. Test after test. Everything fine.
Until one of them said to me:
“Mrs. Teresa, you’re not sick. You’re lonely.”
And that sentence hurt more than any diagnosis. Because there’s no medicine for loneliness.

Sometimes I go to the supermarket just to hear the cashier’s voice. Other times I sit on a bench with an open book, pretending to read, hoping someone will speak to me. But everyone is in a hurry. Everyone is rushing somewhere. And I… I stay here.

I often ask myself: Did I do something wrong?
I raised my children alone. Their father left early.
I worked without rest, cooked, cleaned, ironed, sacrificed.
I was strict, yes, but to protect them. To raise them well.
And now… I’m alone.

I’m not looking for pity. Only answers.
Was I truly a bad mother? Or is this simply the rhythm of modern life, where there’s no longer room for an old woman?

Some tell me: “Find a companion, try the internet.” But I can’t. I don’t trust it. After so many years alone, I no longer have the strength to start over. And my health isn’t what it used to be.

I can’t even work anymore. Before, at least, there were colleagues, chats, laughter. Now only silence.
A silence so dense I turn the TV on just to avoid hearing my own thoughts.

Sometimes I think: if I disappeared tomorrow… would anyone notice? My children? My grandchildren? The neighbor upstairs?

Then I get up, make myself a herbal tea, sit in the kitchen and tell myself:
“Maybe tomorrow someone will remember me. Maybe someone will call. Will write. Maybe I still matter to someone.”

As long as I have even a thread of hope… I’ll stay here.
I no longer expect grand gestures.

A phone call once a week would be enough to change my days.
A video call to see my grandchildren’s faces. A sincere “How are you, Mum?”

I don’t want parties, gifts, or big words.
I just want to know that somewhere, there’s still a little corner in the heart of those I raised with so much love.

That’s why, if you who are reading this have an elderly mother…
Don’t wait for a special date.
Don’t wait for her to ask.
Call her. Go visit her. Listen to her. Hug her.
Because time—the time that runs so fast—one day will take everything away.
And it will never come back.

Dear Lord,

Help us to remember

that you are with

us in every season of our life:

every struggle, uncertainty, and sorrow;

never forsaking us,

even for a moment.

Amen.

“One of the great uses of Twitter and Facebook

will be to prove at the Last Day that prayerlessness

was not from lack of time.” — John Piper

With that in mind….

I’d like to direct our attention (maybe that should be “our attentions” or even “our intentions” — you tell me, please) to prayers from a series that’s benefitted me longer than I’ll admit.

Its current version is The Upper Room Disciplines2025: A Book of Daily Devotions. Each week’s material is written by a different author from one of the widest smatterings of traditions I’ve ever seen.

Each day follows a familiar format of Scripture, reflection, and a prayer, just like The Upper Room series itself. Over the spread of 7 days and following the ecumenical lectionary, Disciplinesxxxx gives each writer space to dig in more deeply and share the connections of the texts.

And then there are the prayers! For example —

God, forgive our empty quarrels and divisive natures. Grant us humility. Free us for joyful obedience. Amen.
Meet me back here tomorrow.

“One of the great uses of Twitter and Facebook

will be to prove at the Last Day that prayerlessness

was not from lack of time.” — John Piper

With that in mind….

The rest of November I’d like to direct our attention (maybe that should be “our attentions” or even “our intentions” — you tell me, please) to prayers from a series that’s benefitted me longer than I’ll admit.

Its current version is The Upper Room Disciplines2025: A Book of Daily Devotions. Each week’s material is written by a different author from one of the widest smatterings of traditions I’ve ever seen.

Each day follows a familiar format of Scripture, reflection, and a prayer, just like The Upper Room series itself. Over the spread of 7 days and following the ecumenical lectionary, Disciplinesxxxx gives each writer space to dig in more deeply and share the connections of the texts.

And then there are the prayers! For example —

God, sit with us in our hurt over what we have lost, and encourage us not to miss out on the celebration that remains. Amen.

Meet me back here tomorrow.