If you had eavesdropped on one British couple during the Advent season of 1921, you would have heard lament. The year had been punctuated by a string of deaths.

• In January, the wife's grandmother died and the husband had a family member killed in a railroad accident.
• In April, the wife's brother died by suicide.
• In May, the husband's mother fell down a staircase and suffered injuries that necessitated the amputation of her leg. While recovering, she died of a hemorrhage.
• In August, every parent's fear became the couple's reality. While the parents were away, their youngest daughter developed a throat infection that the nanny did not "think" serious. The little one died.

How could a family—any family—survive this series of blows? Imagine their holiday family letter: "This has been a year with a lot of funerals."

The couple was numbed by the clichés: "Think of your other children," "God makes no mistakes," and so forth. Ironically, nine decades later, the same threadbare clichés are still served up to grievers. Some would-be comforters follow the logic: When in doubt, cliché! The old adage says, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Words and clichés, however, lacerate the soul without discoloring the skin.

As the holidays approached, there was nothing to convince this couple that they had, in the prophet Jeremiah's words, "a future and a hope" (Jeremiah 29:11). The couple decided not to try to have another child. Weeks after the death of their daughter, at a political function, when someone offered condolences, the husband replied, "We are not planning to have any more children."

"Oh," a wise friend interrupted. "Never say that! The next little one may prove the greatest joy to you of all."

Sometime during the holidays, the couple rethought their decision, apparently. In late August 1922, Mary was born to Clementine and Winston Churchill.

Include the Full Narrative
On many occasions in my youth, I had a part in the annual Christmas pageant. Our church preferred a script that stuck to just the facts as reported in Matthew and Luke. I was an adult before I realized that our congregation had sanitized the Christmas narrative by eliminating the losses or potential losses in the narrative.

We skipped Herod's order to kill the males under age two, which lacerated many families.

We overlooked the two elder adults in Matthew's story. Simeon had been promised that he would not die "until he had seen the Lord's Messiah" (Luke 2:26) and for Anna, a prophetess, at least 80 years old, surely death was on her horizon (Luke 2:36-37).

Make the full Christmas narrative part of your reflection and conversation during the holidays.

Mindful of Others
When your family gathers, Christmas Eve or Christmas Day or whenever, in your blessing for the meal, remember those who are experiencing a significantly different Christmas.

Sooner or later, everyone experiences a grief-soaked Christmas when loss interrupts the "living of these days." After Charles Wesley conducted the funeral for his sister, Hetty, a young woman, he wrote in his journal, "I followed her to a quiet grave, and I wept with them that wept."

How can you be Christlike this season in acknowledging another's grief? Consider these "coming alongside" ideas:

Listen: Then listen some more. And some more after that.

Ask: "Tell me, specifically, how I can pray for you during the holidays?"

Remember: No statute of limitations exists on grief. Individuals tend to show acts of kindness during "the year of the firsts:" first Christmas, first birthday, first anniversary, and so on. For some, the second or fifth year is more challenging because people who were kind that first holiday expect the griever to have "moved on" or "be over it by now."

Volunteer: "Would you like me to go with you to visit the grave?" Alone, Clementine Churchill made her way, year after year, to that small London cemetery where her daughter was buried. For older adults, going to the cemetery is emotionally or physically challenging, particularly if they do not drive. But it can be very important to go. Offer to drive them. Treat them to coffee afterwards.

For others, some assistance with holiday shopping, wrapping, mailing, baking, or cooking would be appreciated. In the hustle and bustle of the holiday shopping venues can be "unkind" places.

Invite: Invite the grieving to your home or apartment, to your table. Many will spend Christmas alone. Grievers may protest that they do not want to "spoil it" for you or your family or that they "do not want to intrude." Actually, they are offering you an escrow learning opportunity for that Christmas when you will grieve.

Pray for the funeral professionals: They must care for the dead, and the grieving families, during the holidays. Some will miss time with their own families to be there. I wish more people would send Christmas cards to those in this profession who so faithfully live out their ministry. If you have holiday goodies, why not take a plate or tray to share with employees at the funeral home.

Card and re-card: Many send condolence cards and e-mails immediately following a death. How will your holiday card be received? In your rush, did you send the same card you mailed to everyone? Did you choose a card and personalize it with a grief story about the deceased, assurance of prayer, or offer of kindness?

Say the deceased's name: Many think it best not to say the name, fearing that will jump-start an avalanche of fresh grief. Actually, grievers find the pronoun more painful, "I am sure it will be difficult without her." If you do not know the name, ask.

When these holidays are past, I hope you may write in your journal, "I wept with them that wept."

Harold Ivan Smith is a grief educator on the teaching faculty of Saint Luke's Hospital in Kansas City and the author of A Decembered Grief.

Holiness Today, November/December 2012

Please note: This article was originally published in 2012. All facts, figures, and titles were accurate to the best of our knowledge at that time but may have since changed.