Lessons from a...tree...

Our house like so many others, have traditions, especially around Christmastime.

For as long as I can remember, my family has had a tradition that on December 1st we "set up Christmas". We begin our time with dancing to Big Fat Santa and Santa Clause is Coming to Town (and as the years move on, my younger siblings have started to request that the shades get shut so the neighbors can't see :P ) After that, we set up the decorations. We don't go "all out", the front of our house doesn't really "look" like Christmas, but inside we decorate with items that, might not be the "best" but that have character and meaning; Our advent calendar that even have been enjoyed by the dogs (hence the teeth marks) and that we rotate who gets to put the piece on to count down the days until Christmas, the stars that hang from our dining room light, given to us by our Grandma from her dog, Star. The cookie cutters in red and green, shaped like bells and stars that no one knows where they came from. The wooden nativity that half the pieces are officially MIA. The big red bow around the mail box.The garland and poinsettias hung above our fire place, concealing the hooks that we hang our stockings on, stockings that were knit by our Grandma. And our tree. That itself is a tradition. We all go down and carry up our "artificial" tree (only we've all gotten much older and can't fit 2 people plus a big box through the doorway). And then we go back down and carry up our box of ornaments. Each of us have our own that contain ornaments dating back to our first Christmas. And then the "set up". Every year, without fail, we argue over who gets "call out" the instructions. And after that little argument is resolved we go to work putting all the branches on, mom strings the the lights on and put the top on, daddy puts the star (that's far to heavy for the poor tree) on, and all the kids put our ornaments on, or at least as many as we can fit :P

But slowly those things change a little. They're still there, but instead of just mom writing down a name for the "caller of the instructions", last year she added "or so and so's boyfriend/girlfriend", which we all thought was funny, but I realized that it's TRUE. Last year it was quite possible that that would be the case, and it really is this year.

And as I sat, processing through the bittersweetness of this season, coming to terms with the fact that my childhood is over, that the "normal" my heart has been holding out for just isn't going to come back, I looked--really looked--at our tree. And thought about how UGLY it is.

I mean, this tree is so...artificial. So very, very ugly. And every year when I help set it up I think, "wow...time for a new tree soon??", but that night, sitting there with the lights glowing and the ornaments decorating it's (flimsy) branches, and the star dimly glowing, I smiled. Because that tree is one of the most beautiful and festive trees I have ever seen. It has character and it's ugliness all but disappears with the love that is symbolized by the ornaments. It's been part of our family, and has our memories attached to it. And I laughed, because suddenly, something so hideous, turns out to be the most beautiful, most really, most authentic.

...And to those ones...

...The ones who fight. Valiantly.The ones who pick up the defense of those who cannot fight for themselves. The ones who have vowed to win...or die trying. The ones who understand and acknowledge that defeat is not an option anymore. To the brave, the dedicated, the loyal, the unsung warriors.
To the same ones who have lost sight of the victory. To the ones on their knees, in surrender of all they've fought to gain. To those who have surrender their sword at the request of the enemy, because they see no other way. To the ones who have come to believe the lies. To the ones that don't see their worth, their value, their honor. To the ones who have forgotten the quest; forgotten who they are.

I speak to the targeted, zoned in on, and attacked warriors. I speak to the men of this generation-my generation.


Your pain is not longer hidden, unseen, tucked away. Your fight is no longer just on your shoulders. One has come, ready to fight for you.

You have not failed; falling is not failing, it's just a chance to rise. You are not worthless, or unworthy, you are still called and chosen. Don't believe the lies, remember the light-the glory-that is rightfully yours. Choose to trust, even in the unseen. Choose to believe, the truth.

Brave hearts, don't forget your quest. don't forget the call. fight on. You will win if you fight.