Last night, I saw an image on Facebook that said something about Christmas being around the corner, then said to comment regarding how you felt about the holidays. I don’t know why, but I started scrolling through the comments. One after another said that they were dreading the holidays—they felt lonely, sad, even hopeless when Christmas came every year and they were alone. One man commented that he hadn’t heard another person’s voice in a week, except on TV. My heart broke for him. But what can I do? Post a sad face as a reply to his comment?
I’ve thought about that man all day, and I’ve thought about the others who commented. And I keep asking myself, what can I do? All I have is my voice and this platform in which to use it. I have no idea who reads this—or if a person with such raw and open wounds ever will. But just in case they do . . . in case you’re sad and lonely this season, I’m writing this for you.
I understand what it is to be lonely—to see that the world is full of people who look so happy, and you’re not. I know how it feels to truly believe in your heart that the world would be better off if you weren’t in it. I have felt that pain. I have known that depression. And I have felt darkness so deep in my soul that it was a physical ache. I’ve also felt that most awful feeling of all—hopelessness. I know what it is to believe that whatever light you once had is gone. I also know what it feels like when you reach the point of no return: when you can’t live the way you’re living any longer, but you don’t know how to do anything differently.
I’m going to ask you to do two things right now. First, keep holding on. Just hold on through this one minute right now. Hold on. Hold on to the hope that there is hope. If you don’t think you can make it one more night, hold on. If all you see is darkness, hold on. If your days are long and the nights are almost unbearable, hold on. If you’re so sad that you can’t even move without crying, hold on. If you’re lonely and think no one cares, hold on. Hold on to this: your Heavenly Father cares. And no matter what your broken heart is telling you right now, you’re not alone. You’re not a lost cause. You are loved. And you matter. Please—hold on for this one moment.
Second, I’m going to ask you to dig deep, muster up every last shred of courage you have, and reach out: make a phone call, send a text, or go to the nearest mental health care center. Someone out there right now, right this minute, is waiting to hear from you—and they don’t even know it yet. But they’re there. I’m here. And there’s a whole community of people out here who care. If you reach out, we’ll come for you.
I know the night seems oppressively dark right now. I know you can’t see your way clear to morning. Hold on—and let that darkness propel you into the light of hope. Choose it. Seek it. It’s there, even if you can’t see it or feel it. Right this minute, you are one choice away from making this your last dark, hopeless night. Choose to reach out. I know it’s scary. I know it might be the hardest thing you ever do. And I know you wonder, what next? You don’t need to think about that right now. All you have to do in this moment is hold on and reach out. I did. I’m living proof that change is possible, no matter how damaged and hopeless you might feel right now. Your night will end, and dawn will come. I promise.
Most Holy Night
— Renee Adele Phillips with Placide Cappeau
O holy night
Only dark marks the hour;
The stars are brightly shining
Loneliness drapes heavy on my shoulders
It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth.
And I long to shake it, break this silence.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
The only noise is the voices that clamor and hammer
‘Til He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.
at me, accusing, labeling, condemning.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.
I shake my head and look up—
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn
A star outside my window reminds me
Fall on your knees!
and I drop to my knees.
O hear the angel voices!
I remember the gift of Emmanuel:
O night divine
Jesus with me—light. Peace. Hope.
O night when Christ was born!
The Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255 offers 24/7 free, confidential support. Or text CONNECT to 741741 at any time of day or night; a trained crisis professional will respond and help you.
To find a recovery meeting or treatment center near you, visit https://www.addiction.com/meetingfinder/
For mental health resources, go to http://www.centermh.org/
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Comments 12
Renee, Reading this, makes a person realize, during the Holidays, makes me realize there are lonely, broken people out there..O Holy Night has got to be one of my all time favorite songs. Powerful lyrics, your words that accompany this beautiful piece of is so uplifting. The telephone numbers you provided will help , to reach out. The key is “reach out”, to ease the pain for those going through the “pa8ns” of 5h3cHol8days. God Bless You, Renee
Author
Hal–“O Holy Night” is absolutely my favorite Christmas song. Thank you for saying that the words I added to it were uplifting. I do hope that people who are lonely or hurting, especially at this time of year, will reach out.
Well …. As my dad used to say. No addendum just “well..” His polite comment that ment … When??? I’ll truly never forget that WWII vet who dearly loved his children with a southern sterness and a southern baptist heart. So Rennee … “Well?”
Steve–you made me smile–AND message received. I’m going to write this book. I WILL write this book. How’s that?
I’m so glad that you gave the invitation to reach out, to connect with someone, somehow. That is so very important. I’m glad, too, that our Father sees all those who are lost and lonely, and He is there in the dark calling to them when no one else can see what He sees. Beautiful, Renee.
Thank you, Heather. Yes, our Father sees and He cares. I’m so grateful for that.
So heartfelt, so beautiful, so real and yet so sad—- yet there is light at the end of the tunnel, this I know!
I do remember I asked for that one more minute, that one more hour when I felt this hopeless, that ill and that alone. Yes, a light shines in the darkness somewhere even if we can barely see it, someone is there waiting for you.
Thank you for this and like others who commented above, may this be a chapter in the book that one day comes to be. May the Holy Spirit guide you and speak through you as you continue to write your story as an inspiration for others.
Klara, thank you more than I can say. It makes me sad that you, too had to experience those dark times–but doesn’t it make the light so much brighter by contrast? If this is ever a chapter in a book I write, it will have to be about grace–and hope.
I can see this blog post as the prologue of the book you MUST write or perhaps the epilogue, and so appropriate for this time of year. Once again, you knocked it out of the park Renee!
Thank you, Aunt Phyllis–I didn’t see it that way, but I do now–a prologue or epilogue. Your encouragement has wormed its way into my head, and I’m starting to seriously consider a book. Thank you for that and for your support. Love you!
There it is. Another chapter in the short stories of life. Do it Rennee!
Steve–thank you for being so supportive. I DO like thinking of it as “another chapter”. . .