I had a new adventure this Thanksgiving holiday. I went with my in-laws to cut down our families’ Christmas trees. I hadn’t ever been Christmas tree hunting, and I was eager for the experience.
We drove to my in-laws’ traditional Christmas tree cutting location in a remote region of Idaho and began hunting around for a stand of properly proportioned trees. Unfortunately, somebody had gone through and chopped down just about all the quality trees in the area. Everywhere there lay stacks of abandoned pines. The place looked like a Christmas tree graveyard.
We took turns carrying the baby up the mountain as we trekked farther and farther up into the forest.
Finally we found the one we wanted, and Kyle chopped it down.
It was a little bit of a trek back to the cars but Kyle carried our tree and Lauren carried my in-laws’.
It was a lovely outing on a lovely day. Picture perfect! That is, until our beautiful tree snapped several of its cords and threatened to fly away the following night. After cutting the remaining cords with a broken beer bottle found in the dirt of a dark highway exit we were forced to abandon our tree by the side of the road.
The experience has left me thoughtful. I don’t think I’m alone when I say that I sometimes struggle during the holidays with incredibly high expectations. I want things to be perfect. Something like a picture print by Currier and Ives. So, when the Christmas tree gets left behind, or the car dies on the way to a Christmas party, or the tow truck crashes with the car in tow, it’s easy to get especially disheartened.
The ironic thing is that if we here on earth were perfect, there wouldn’t be a Christmas at all. In fact, the reason for the season is a salvation from the troubles that come from imperfection.
Even the very first Christmas was fraught with frustrating circumstances. I can imagine Mary, like many of us, might have expected something as unique and important as the birth of the Savior to come with honor and glory and power and strength… Instead she went into labor far from home, on the back of a donkey, and was forced to bear the baby Jesus in a stable. Poor Mary and Joseph! How horrible it must have felt to have so little to provide the Savior of the world at his birth! How frustrating that meager beginning must have been.
During this and other most wonderful times of the year, when things seem to be falling apart beyond your control, I hope you get a chance to remember that the true magic of Christmas doesn’t come from perfect parties, presents, or moments, but from the promise that we will not be subject to imperfection forever.
Merry Christmas!