Half a Christmas Tree

As we opened boxes of Christmas decorations, the excitement was building. This year would be different. Instead of pain, sickness and uncertainty,we would enjoy assurance, peace and joy. I expected aChristmas that resembled blissful holiday commercials. Due to several years of high-risk pregnancies andbabies in the hospital, finances were strained. So wehad been overjoyed the previous year to receive alarge, artificial tree from my husband’s parents, which replaced our “Charlie Brown” tree. I had been counting the days until we could decorate the new tree; this season symbolized a new beginning.

Not a beauty

As my husband, Kevin, sat on the floor and unpacked the Christmas boxes, a look of worry came over his face. I peeked into the living room after placing a sheet of cookies in the oven and asked, “Iseverything OK, Hon?”

He rubbed his nose and replied, “Oh yes, everything isgreat, Pumpkin Duck.”

My husband does two things when he’s in trouble:He rubs his nose and startscalling me sappy names.

I walked over to where he was sitting and asked again,“Is everything OK here?”

He looked up and said,“Well, it seems we have half of two different trees.” Somehow during spring-cleaning,he must have thrown away half of the new tree and halfof the Charlie Brown tree,which was even more pitifulwithout its other part.

I looked around the livingroom as our three little boystied themselves up in Christmaslights. I noticed a fewbroken bulbs at the bottom ofthe box. Then I smelled thecookies burning in the oven.How did other families manageto pull off the pictureperfectholiday? It seemed tobe an elusive dream.

Tree in progress

My husband was determined to make things right,and since he is a gifted craftsman,he turned to his tools. Infact, he had visions of makinga tree better than anythingwe could buy at the store—itwould even rotate on a customtree stand! In a matterof minutes, tools coveredthe living room floor. Kevinturned up the music and gotto work.

Nighttime came, andour floor was still coveredwith branches, toolsand sawdust. I kissedmy husband andsaid, “Let’s go to bed,Honey. You’ve workedso hard, but we can letit go. We don’t need atree this year.”

I went to bedthinking he wouldsoon follow. Butwhen I rolled over inthe middle of thenight, he was notthere. I walked intothe living room to see himon the floor holding the controlto the lights like a boywith a remote control car.He stared up at his creationwith wonder. I crawled intohis lap and shared his amazement.Standing proudly infront of us was a mediumsized,full, beautiful Christmastree.

Reason for joy

My husband wrappedhis arms around me, andwe chuckled as we recalledthe day’s events. Then werecounted all that was goingright in our life. We hadthree precious babes sleepingdown the hall. We had a roofover our heads. Most of all,we had access to joy wheneverwe had the faith to layhold of it.

Isn’t it amazing how muchstock we put into “the season”?In other words, if we have ayear when work is too busy,finances too tight or health toofrail, we say things like, “I don’thave much Christmas spiritthis year.” Our focusshifts too easily towhat is going on withus. How fragile we’vebecome!

As a result, ouremphasis on Jesus andthe indescribable giftHe provides for everyseason fades. Even ifall our presents don’tline up in a row, wehave a reason for joy.Christ came to give usa glimpse of glory, tobring peace and to save oursouls.

Next year will bring newcircumstances that threaten tointerrupt our hope and stealour joy. Whether we are in aseason of comfort or one ofstruggle, we must remember:Peace came to earth and, as aresult, joy came to reside inour hearts forever. That’s muchbetter than putting our hopesin half a Christmas tree.