My wife stocked the diaper bag with an arsenal of snacks and water bottles, and I got the kids dressed from their beanies to moon boots in warm clothes. We piled into the truck and drove toward the mountains. Christmas carols played across the speakers as we enjoyed viewing the deer herds that populated the fields outside of Orangeville. We turned off the main road and sauntered up Cottonwood Canyon in search for a Christmas tree. The farther we journeyed up the canyon, both the depth of the snow and the excitement of the children grew; when both reached an ample height, we pulled to the side of the road and lit out on foot.
For those of you that have live trees in your home for Christmas, you know too well that it is an earned pursuit! If brother Moses had toted an eleventh commandment down off that mountain, I wonder if it wouldn’t have read something like “Thou shalt never cut the first tree of Christmas which thou doth come upon. Thou shalt walk around and observe at least thirty and two of them, before making a wise and glorious choice.” Doesn’t it seem that there is just something inside of you that won’t let you choose a tree until you have eliminated several others? It’s like a pretty young woman trying to choose from the lineup of bachelors at the dance; that one is too tall, this one is too short, too round, too gangly, and heaven forbid those that are bald on one side!
Finally, after all the searching we found this year’s Christmas tree. We brought it home and set it up in the corner of the room. Before we’d hung a single light or decoration my five year old said “Dad, it doesn’t look like a Christmas tree, it’s just a tree from the forest.” However, after a full album of “Christmas with the chipmunks,” the tree was decorated with lights, bulbs, and ornaments. We then crowned it with a star, and stood back to take a look! My little man climbed up on the chair next to me and said “Wow, look at that! Now it looks like a Christmas tree Dad!”
My son was right with both statements about the tree, and I am grateful for the lesson I learned from that little teacher. My friends, during this holiday season, may we remember that each and every person is unique and important. Although someone may look like just another tree in the forest or another face in the crowd; if you can offer some light of kindness upon that person, or decorate them in friendship, we will help them to become something better.
If we will let it, Christmas can make us better than we were before. May we see ourselves and those around us for what we truly can become, let us be cheerful, let us be kind, and let us have a very MERRY CHRISTMAS.