Writer Faye Smith reflects on the Christmas wreath that has accompanied her through love, loss, and renewal. As she nears 60, its symbolism speaks again of faith, resilience, and everlasting hope.
I will be 60 next birthday. I have held onto almost nothing from my 20-year marriage, but every year I put my Christmas wreath - the one last symbol from our marriage - on my door on 1st December. One of my bridesmaids once carried it down the aisle on my wedding day, and it reminds me of the love once shared that produced my two beloved children.
Its evergreens speak of resurrection, the hope that in the bleakness of winter, all is not dead. The berries remind us of the sacrifice Jesus made for us, loving us to the cruellest death, and the circle reminds us of God’s everlasting love for every single one of us his children, however and whoever we are. Commitment. Covenant. Sacrifice. To me, despite the pain of the past, that’s still a symbol worth sharing.
When I came to get the wreath out of my shed this year, I discovered to my horror, desperate mice had clearly partied hard in the snow.
When I came to get the wreath out of my shed this year, I discovered to my horror, desperate mice had clearly partied hard in the snow. The nutters had eaten most of the berries down to shreds of white polystyrene. I have no idea why, when I have a garden full of delicious berries? The paint chemicals and materials were surely poisonous, but it got me thinking about all those toxic things that destroyed my marriage, and all the unhealthy actions and beliefs which nibbled away at our relationship over the years.
READ MORE: You can find hope, peace, joy, and love in Advent
I married on 1st December, Advent Saturday, 35 years ago. I was 24 and had been dating for five months, engaged after five weeks. A typical orthodox evangelical Christian courtship, sold on what I now believe to be a deeply unhelpful ‘patriarchal protestant purity prosperity’ gospel. A lifetime of happiness for playing by ‘the rules’: working hard, praying hard and submitting gracefully.
One issue - our imperfect, often flawed, damaged humanity. Imperfections. Mistakes. Our wounds, our traumas, our addictions, our unhealthy coping mechanisms, our dysfunctions, dysregulation, dissociations, neural diversity, even personality differences. There’s a lot to work through… and it takes honesty, vulnerability, willingness, focus, effort, community and in many cases external therapeutic expertise- from both parties. I am truly sorry if this has been your experience.
As we enter advent, the season of waiting, I stand with those of you who are still waiting for redemption in any area of your life and relationships.
As we enter advent, the season of waiting, I stand with those of you who are still waiting for redemption in any area of your life and relationships. With those of you struggling to hold on, or wondering if you should. Whose relationships are painful, not positive. Who have sacrificed and submitted until you lost yourself. And especially those whose faith keeps them in those unhealthy relationships without adequate boundaries.
READ MORE: Moving on from divorce as a Christian woman
I have been through many trials which were certainly not in my Christian or any relational playbook. Many times, I have felt like a one-woman soap opera. Abandonment, separation, divorce, death, financial hardship, betrayal, loss, grief. And after years of various forms of often painfully reflective therapy for which (and to those who listened and supported) I am eternally grateful, I have finally come to recognise I am the happiest I have ever been with my quiet simple life, because I am the most content I have ever been within myself. I like the person the hardships have made me: more empathic, less judgmental, more reflective, more understanding, more questions than answers these days.
READ MORE: Life after adultery and divorce
I almost threw my wreath away in disgust on seeing the depressing mess, but then I remembered a lovely local florist who had helped me in the past and threw myself on Sophie’s mercy. In just three days, this master of her trade had resurrected the wreath, replacing the scarred berries, moving the pieces around for pleasing symmetry with her expert maker’s eye, until the whole looked not just as good, but better than before.
On what would be my 35th wedding anniversary, it is back in its rightful place on my door. Humans can get love oh so wrong, but for me, this wreath- and its resurrection- is still a symbol of the everlasting, perfect love Jesus came to offer all of us at Christmas and forever. Surely that’s a message worth celebrating?
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