It was Christmas, and I was coming off what felt like the best year of my young, eight-year-old life.

 

My sister and I had been brought to the United States to live with my mom and stepdad, in the first home I would ever call my own.

 

The beatings from my grandmother had stopped.

 

The ache of being separated from my mom was finally gone.

 

We were together — my sister, my half-brothers — a family.

 

The year before, Christmas had been beautiful.

 

Then came this Christmas morning.

 

The house was dark.

 

Cold.

 

And my parents weren’t coming out of their bedroom.

 

We waited. 7am, 8am, ..10..finally 11 am.

 

No presents — but that wasn’t what hurt most. I had grown up without birthdays and Christmas gifts. I didn’t expect them.

 

What hurt me wasn't the lack of presents but the absence of my parent's presence

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The confusion.

 

Not knowing what was going on.

 

Later, I learned the truth.

 

My parents owned a small store in North Philadelphia — a rough area.

 

It kept getting broken into.

 

The most recent time, thieves climbed onto the roof and came in through the ceiling.

 

My stepfather already kept two guns under the counter.

 

They were overwhelmed and afraid.

 

They had to close the store.

 

That store was our lifeline — it had paid for the house, brought us together as a family, and made the Christmas before possible.

 

Without it, they were suddenly in serious financial trouble.

 

Neither of them had much education.

 

The future was uncertain.

 

What hurt me most wasn’t the lack of money.

 

It was that no one told us.

 

I was young, but I wanted us to face it together.

 

I wanted honesty. Connection. A sense that even if things were hard, we were still a family.

 

That didn’t happen — and it left a mark.

 

So why do I share this story as we approach Christmas?

 

Because just like nature, our lives move in seasons.

 

Not every season is spring or summer.

 

Some seasons are winter.

 

Winter can feel dark, cold, lonely — even terrifying — especially when we don’t understand what’s happening.

 

The good news is: none of us are alone in it.

 

We will all face winters — financially, emotionally, physically, relationally, spiritually.

 

What matters is how we walk through them.

 

What I see too often is people losing hope in winter — and from that place, making desperate choices that change not just their circumstances, but their hearts.

 

Hard times don’t last forever.

 

Winter doesn’t last forever.

 

The winds change. Circumstances change.

 

That’s why inner work matters — tending to our minds and hearts so we don’t lose ourselves while we wait for spring.

 

My family made it through that season.

 

It took time.

 

My parents found new jobs. Life stabilized again.

 

No life is perfect.

 

But if my parents had had a coach like me back then, I would have encouraged them to tell us the truth — to say:

 

“We don’t have money for Christmas this year, but we love you.

 

And today we’re going to be together.

 

We’ll play games. Eat what we have. And we’ll face this as a family.”

 

I would have liked that very much.

 

Writing this feels good to my soul and I just realized something powerful.

 

My parents made the right decision to close the store.

 

Had my stepdad been killed protecting it then we would have had a major loss, and we would have fell into a terrible situation as a family.

 

You never know how something that seems awful is actually protecting you.

 

I trust God doesn't give us circumstances without some reason or blessing for us.

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If you’re going through a hard time right now — if this is your winter — I want, you to know you’re not alone.

 

And this doesn’t have to be financial.

 

Winter can show up emotionally. Spiritually. Mentally. Relationally.

 

Remember: winters don’t last forever.

 

And even in winter, hope — and sometimes even joy — is still possible.

 

If you want to talk, just reply. There’s no catch.

 

If I can help, I will.

 

After all, I was once that kid who just wanted to help his parents.

 

Wishing you peace and warmth this holiday season — whether there are presents under the tree or not.

 

Much love,

Bert