Tyler and I simply do not agree on Christmas trees. He feels uncomfortable with the idea of chopping them down. He does not go in for artificial trees either. I, however, love buying and putting up a Christmas tree, and I have no issues with recycling them in January. I have been collecting ornaments since I was two years old. That was when my mother decided I needed my own little tree with non-breakable ornaments so I could at will decorate, un-decorate, and decorate again rather than experimenting with the family tree. While I don't feel the need to put up a tree every year, I do not want to abandon the practice altogether. Tyler and I compromise as best we can, and he is always willing to string the lights.
While I enjoy going to a Christmas tree lot, this year I spotted some small trees in front of the grocery store. Not perfect trees, certainly. However, I thought that perhaps a small tree might be easier to manage this year. I lifted one up for closer inspection.
"Not that one," came a voice from behind me. I turned to see a man, probably close to my age, sitting by the front door. I see him fairly often, and we always say hello to one another. I smiled, set that tree down, and lifted the one next to it and turned to him.
"Yes, better, although it is still a Charlie Brown tree." I laughed and replied, "Well, this is a bit of a Charlie Brown Christmas." I turned to walk into the store to purchase it. He quietly asked if I could buy him a sandwich.
I did not buy him lunch, but I gave him $5 on my way out. "This is for your interior design consultation." We both laughed and he then said, "Give my love to the family." I assured him I would. That is what I am doing now.
I fear the story of the tree is better than the tree itself. I am not at all confident that it will last until Epiphany, and I am hoping it will not lose all its needles before Christmas. Also, I have learned that decorating a small tree is not easy. I am trying not to open every box of ornaments, but that does take some of the fun out of it. However, this morning I realized that I was not letting the tree speak to me, a step that my mother believed to be critical. I shall try again later today.
I decided to put my small terracotta creche on the desk in the dining room, just behind where I sit for my Zoom meetings. This is the first year that I have not simply set up the whole nativity scene right out of the box. At the moment, there are only two sheep present. I don't know why I decided to leave the manger empty, but I am surprised how much comfort I feel when I gaze into that small, almost empty space. I think I am feeling gratitude that it looks like there just might be room for us all.
A couple of years ago a friend sent me some lines from what she thought was an old carol. She wondered if I knew the source. I have not been able to find anything other than they appear in a book entitled, A Way to the Heart of Christmas, edited by Brian Linard. The book has no further elaboration about these few lines:
The middle of the night
is the beginning of the day.
The middle of need
is the beginning of the light.
Advent really is about learning to quietly find our way to Christmas. It is about making room for the Christ who sits by the door. It is about accepting that it is we, not Christ, who have not yet arrived. In a recent post, Sister Joan Chittister wrote, "And now, we all wait, not for the coming of Christ—God took care of that—but for the coming of the Gospel, which we are delaying in the name of God." Those words are staying with me. I think that for some of us, it takes a long time to learn to live the Gospel. That is why both empty places and community are important. We need empty places to pray, and we need community to help us journey on.
Let us boldly light the candle of love this Sunday and give thanks that we have a place.
