I remember my first Christmas after my divorce. I had just completed DivorceCare—a 13-week journey of rebuilding what felt shattered. I had new friends, new rhythms, and a flicker of strength returning.
Then December came. The lights, the music, the family pictures on social media… and the reminder that life as I knew it had changed. When I realized I’d be sharing my children—celebrating apart and knowing their dad’s girlfriend would be there—my heart sank. Healing isn’t linear. Even when you think you’re steady, grief can resurface like a wave.
Making New Traditions in the Midst of Loss
I reached a point where clinging to the past was keeping me stuck. So I asked God to help me create beauty in a different form. That’s how our Saran Ball Game began—several rolls of wrap, tiny gifts, laughter, chaos, and joy. Each person had ten seconds to unwrap before passing it along.
We laughed until our sides hurt. And for the first time since the divorce, my home was filled with laughter that didn’t sting. That silly game became a sacred reminder that joy can coexist with sorrow. God didn’t erase my pain; He gently layered joy on top of it so I could remember I was still alive, still loved, still His.
The 3 M’s of Surviving the Holidays After Divorce
Be where your feet are. When you’re with your kids, let your mind rest there. Notice the smell of cinnamon, the sound of their laughter, the feel of their hugs. Gratitude in the moment quiets anxiety about what’s next.
Carve out space for silence. Light a candle, breathe slowly, and invite the Holy Spirit to speak. When the world feels loud, stillness becomes holy ground. God often whispers answers we miss in the noise.
Ask God to weave purpose through your pain. Maybe it’s serving another single parent, writing a note of encouragement, or starting a new ritual that reflects who you’re becoming. Light is revealed when we bring meaning into the dark.
Hope in the Hard
The first Christmas story reminds us that miracles are often born in the midnight hour. Mary and Joseph stood in a dim stable, surrounded by uncertainty—yet God’s light broke through. In the same way, your current night is not your ending.
If your heart feels heavy this season, take courage. God is quietly working in the shadows, shaping redemption you can’t yet see. Hope is being born in your darkness too—and when His light dawns, you’ll look back and realize He was there all along.