A couple weeks ago something happened in my kitchen that has haunted me. Actually it didn’t happen, but it could have.
I was feeding the dog when I got between Spense (the dog) and his dinner which is a dangerous place to stand. Spense jumped hard onto the back of my knees causing me to lose my balance and – almost – fall backwards onto the corner of the dining room table.
I once buried someone who died from falling backwards into a dining room table. (Note: much of my parenting involves this scenario. When our kids asked if they could ride a motorcycle, climb the side of a building or play with a pack of wild dogs, I usually responded, “I just buried someone who died doing that.”)
I caught my balance and didn’t hit my head but my heart was pounding and I shuttered a little and – for the rest of that day – I considered how different life would be if I had actually experienced a head trauma and my family spent that night discussing whether or not I would have wanted life support. Christmas this year would have been very different.
When people say, “It couldn’t happen to me” I find myself not only knowing it could happen to them, but not being surprised when it happens to any of us – “it” being the random fall, the fiery crash, the wayward tree branch, the out-of-nowhere terminal illness. We who are pastors have seen things. Trauma happens and it can happen to anyone. It often happens to the best people.
And so as we pray for those who’ve endured unspeakable traumas this year – and there are millions of those people – let us also be thankful for the traumas that could have happened . . . but they didn’t. We caught our balance. The crash was avoided. The falling branch missed us. The tumor was benign. Even if we have indeed suffered mightily in 2023, it could have been so much worse. In the throes of our actual traumas, it’s possible that we also had people who love us, work that fulfills us, creature comforts that soothe us.
I thank God today for the traumas that didn’t happen. And yet that’s not good enough. If we are fluent in the language of gratitude, may it fuel us with the energy and desire to walk alongside those whose traumas actually did happen. Merry Christmas, friends.
A Church for Starving Artists 
I’m grateful you didn’t fall, are sill alive and serving your neighbors and our Lord. Merry Christmas
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That speaks to me so much. One of my cousins who was just my age, died yesterday. She joined about 15 of my family members who died between November 15th and the first of the next year. For many years Thanksgiving and Christmas were spent either getting ready for, or getting over funerals. You never know… Except I DO know they are now rejoined with their loved ones, and probably much happier about the transition than I am/was.
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There have been so many traumas this year…perhaps it’s our age and all those we know who are of “an age.” I give thanks for our life and ability to skirt danger every single day, especially those days where I drive across town and God opens my eyes to all those who are living in trauma, on the streets and sidewalks. I pray we will all be open and ready to help as God shows up and shows us all the trauma.
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Thank you wonderfully said. We have to give thanks to God for the traumas that we escaped. Also, for the ones that unfortunately we weren’t able to escape. There’s a saying that we always refer to in the black church. “God is good all the time and all the time God is good.” Even in times of trauma God is still in control!🙏🏽
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