The end of year holidays from Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day have been particularly hard since my parents divorced. As the years passed, my dad and I rebuilt the bridge that was burned between us. Then, two years ago, he didn’t feel well on Christmas Day and left this world on New Year’s Eve. Now, the holidays are even more difficult for me to feel jolly.

I often think of the what ifs, what could have been, but this year, my focus is keeping the holidays simple, thinking of the good, and appreciating the years I had with Dad and the memories we shared.

My inspiration comes from the men and women with intellectual and developmental disabilities and autism where I work at The Baddour Center. Residents deeply feel emotions and grief, yet they are a wonderful example of sharing joy, hugs, and smiles – despite their disappointment or sadness.

For instance, during the campus tours I lead, Joe tells as many people as possible brief stories about his dad and the jokes they shared. I had the pleasure of meeting “Papa Smurf” as Joe him, and he once showed me a t-shirt and told the story of a raccoon hunt that was one of the first fundraising events on our nearly 120-acres.

As part of the Advancement Team but not a hunter, I was intrigued by his story at the time and very thankful that tradition no longer continues after our 45 years of being an intentional residential community for the residents we serve; however, each time Joe shares a story of his dad to a stranger, I am reminded of how important it is to talk about the life and laughter we shared with our loved ones.

Lecy, on the other hand, visits my office frequently and starts many conversations with “Do you remember…?” Because 15 years have passed in my tenure, I normally remember exactly who she is talking about. Sometimes, it’s a memory of her daddy; other memories revolve around a resident or staff member who is no longer bound by their Earthly bodies. Nearly every conversation ends with Lecy and me agreeing “I sure miss [him/her]” and giggling about what fun was had.

Lecy’s father was “advanced in his chronological years” – as my pastor would say – by the time I met him. I knew him as a sweet-spirited, humble, Southern gentleman. It was evident the way he held Lecy’s hand how much he loved her, and he taught me a lesson each time he ambled into the building with a check in-hand, which was nearly always a memorial gift with instructions on who and where to send the acknowledgement note.

Clearly, his love extended beyond Lecy, and he made a choice to keep the deceased’s memory alive by investing in the lives of others through a donation to an organization that made an impact on his daughter’s daily life.

Christmas can be a tough holiday for some and a favorite holiday for others. May we be challenged this year to be like the men and women who call The Baddour Center home and their families.

Let’s give each other grace to process life experiences in our own way – with plenty of hugs, laughter, and patience to share with those around us. Let’s not just remember our loved ones but let’s talk about them, sharing precious memories with others who knew them. Let’s also be generous, humble givers who share with non-profit agencies, like The Baddour Center, that have had a positive impact on us or someone we love.

From all of us at The Baddour Center, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

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