Photo by Richard Collett 2019 |
Nearly a decade ago, when we moved into our present home, we decided to decorate for Christmas with a new artificial tree, wider and taller than our previous tree, as our new living room was larger. Setting up the tree was a lengthy project for my dear husband, as he spent hours on his knees removing the individual branches from their cells in a honeycomb-style container. Then he inserted each branch in its own groove on the trunk (which itself first had to be screwed together from its component pieces).
Finally we would look at it from all angles to get it as straight as possible, which meant my husband would lie prone on the floor, the lowest branches scraping his back, while he tweaked the trunk base this way and that in response to my direction. Then came the lighting, with a key section inevitably burned out once the whole connected string was in place, requiring weeding out the defective chain and reconnecting a new one.
This process took its toll on my husband’s back and knees, not to mention on the tree limbs, which lost needles every time the tree was assembled and disassembled. Over the years, we thought about replacing it with a fresh cut tree, but we felt that a live tree looked and functioned much better in its native environment than in our living room.
Yet each year, the once beautiful and full spruce had more bare spots, with many branch tips brown from the absence of needles. My husband finally cleared out enough space in the lanai closet to store the fully assembled tree strung with lights, so that we could just do the “Christmas tree drag” through the sliders from the lanai to the living room, which was much quicker and easier. But needles still continued to fall because of contact with the tarp covering it while being stored, and because of the many ornaments we hung each year.
We thought about getting another artificial tree, but we found it difficult to justify the expense of a new tree of similar size, fullness and quality. More importantly, so many memories in our new home were inextricably linked to this “new” tree!
Such as the first Christmas we celebrated with the lovely young woman who would soon become our son’s wife! The first Christmas dinner, a succulent Beef Wellington, prepared under the leadership of our son.
The first Christmas we enjoyed the antics of a canine guest – our son’s and daughter-in-law’s Australian shepherd, as he “herded” the stuffed toy squirrels we gave him, dashing around and around the tree, stopping and starting on a dime, changing direction abruptly, while miraculously knocking no ornaments off the tree!
And, a few years later, a second Aussie, learning the ropes of how to behave around the tree by following the example of his older yet smaller "brother."
Every Christmas we record a short video in front of this tree, recounting the special events of that year, the most memorable gifts, and especially the many blessings for which we thank God and give Him all the glory.
So each year, including this one, we drag the old Christmas tree, always showing its age a bit more, into our living room. It looks sparse and awkward at first, like Charlie Brown’s tree but broader. But soon the bare branches disappear as we fill them with special ornaments, each telling a special story that reflects a precious part of our history.
Some collectible ornaments were given to me by my mother when I was still in college. Others commemorate my rescue dog (rescued from dog lab in medical school!), our first Christmas together, our engagement, our honeymoon in Hawaii, our first Christmas in our new home, our son’s first Christmas, his first apartment. Mementos of our many travels, for dance shows and vacations, from England, Hong Kong, Japan, Italy, Ireland, Switzerland, France, Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, and so many more.
Our dance ministry history can be read from this tree. Special performances we gave and competitions at the Grand Ol’ Opry, Blackpool Dance Festival, World Swing Dance Championships. And a unique ornament depicting each of the dances we choreographed, to music and themes including O Holy Night, Phantom of the Opera, Christmas Toys Come Alive, Transformed, Bring Him Home, Sun and Moon, and many others!
Our old Christmas tree also reminds me of our senior saints. They may have walked this earth for many years, seen much better times, and lost some hair and teeth along the journey, but their memories, wisdom and experiences are truly irreplaceable. As lights of the world, they shine brightly with the inner radiance of knowing Christ (Matthew 5:14).
Once we are saved by trusting in the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ (1 Corinthians 15:4) as the only Way to Heaven (John 14:6), He enables His perfect will and plan to be accomplished in our lives (Jeremiah 29:11; Philippians 1:6). Only He can transform what is broken, flawed and worn out into a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17; Galatians 6:15) of unique beauty and purpose, for we are His workmanship (Ephesians 2:10).
Our Christmas tree may be old, but when lit and decorated with the colors of the season, it still serves the purpose of praising Him and reminding ourselves and others of the miracle of Christ’s birth – Emmanuel (Matthew 1:23), God with us in the flesh! He came as a lowly Infant (Luke 2:5-7), the sinless Lamb of God (John 1:29), to suffer and die on our behalf (Romans 3:25), that all who trust Him will live forever! (John 3:16)
Only Christ can take our bare frame and adorn it with precious ornaments of Godly virtue, meek and quiet Spirit (1 Peter 3:3-5), fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23), the light of His love, and testimonies of His faithfulness and provision through challenges, storms and trials (1 Samuel 7:12).
May we cherish each of these gifts and call them to remembrance daily, praising Him for the new life He breathes into our old frame. And may we look forward to that day, which I pray and believe will be very soon, when He replaces our tired, aging bodies with glorious resurrection bodies (1 Corinthians 15:42-58), and we shall be as He is!
© 2021 Laurie Collett
Reposted from the archives
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