O Christmas Tree

My husband and I have an agreement: each year for his birthday, January 10, I give him the gift of taking down the Christmas tree and un-decorating the house. It’s a bittersweet time for me each year. I love Christmas, and I hate the reminder that another season has passed and time is moving on.

I didn’t have a Christmas tree growing up, as I came from a family history that was concerned about the pagan origins of this tradition. As an adult, I easily set aside those old concerns and eagerly put up a tree each year, as I had always dreamed of doing when I was a child. After all, it is only a decoration, and we’re hundreds of years removed from any pagan tree celebrations, right?

As with so many things, life in Thailand has a way of challenging every idea I have ever taken for granted, and this year the Christmas tree became a source of doubt in my heart. Here I am, living in a Buddhist country, looking around me to see what the people here think of Christmas and its trappings. Every mall boasts at least one Christmas tree, reaching dozens of feet into the air, glittering with neon lights, blinding, beckoning to shoppers and speaking of excess.

Thai and Karen Christians have begun adopting the idea of Christmas trees. They are usually small, often holding only a single string of lights and one or two strands of colored tinsel, maybe a few small ornaments and bows – simple.

This year I looked at my tree, strands of golden beads reflecting the twinkling of multiple strands of white lights, beautiful ornaments of all shapes and sizes filling almost every available green space, red and golden ribbon interwoven and tying it all together. But the beauty of it didn’t fill me with joy like it usually does. Instead, it screamed to me, wealth. Most of my Thai and Karen friends will never even find such beautiful Christmas ornaments here in Thailand, and if they did, they wouldn’t be able to afford to put them on their tree just to decorate their home for a month before packing them up into storage again.

How in the world does this Christmas tree tie in to the celebration of the coming of Jesus? How will this look to the local Christian population, our friends and co-workers? 

These were the questions echoing through my head as I looked at my tree. To the native Christians here, Christmas is a celebration for the church community – Sweet December is the time when we join together as a people to remember what Jesus has done for us by coming to earth. What in the world does a Christmas tree have to do with that? How does my sparkling Christmas tree communicate the meaning of Christmas? Had I been wrong all of these years?

Basking in the glow of the tree and gazing at the different ornaments, it occurred to me that my tree was more about family and friends, memories, special moments captured and preserved and brought out each year. But was this ok? And was this all there was to it?

Now another year of Christmas celebrations has passed and a new year has dawned, and a few nights ago, I sat in the light of the Christmas tree one last time for this season. My girls sat with me, and as we sat we began to reminisce. Emma asked me what my favorite part of Christmas is. I could never narrow it down, but that particular night, I was thinking again of the tree.

 “I love to look at the tree. Each ornament tells a story and brings a memory with it.”

“What’s the story of the gold and white box?"

“Ah, well that’s the story of a little girl who learned how important it is to obey her mama when she is told not to touch the pretty things in the store…”

And it was in those next moments, as I shared with my girls the stories represented by each unique ornament, that God began to speak to me about this tree, this beautiful Christmas tree that had occupied so many of my thoughts since I first put it up on Thanksgiving weekend.

You see, Daughter, this isn’t really a Christmas tree; it’s a Thanksgiving tree – a blessing tree. Each ornament is a reminder of My goodness and graciousness; each one tells again the story of My great love for your family and the mercy I have shown you through the years.

Ornaments handed down to me from my grandmother’s tree stir up memories of childhood holidays spent traveling for hours, just for the joy of being with grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins.

The antique ornaments that my mom and I found while Christmas shopping the year before she got cancer – our last Black Friday together – call to mind many wonderful times spent together searching for just the right gifts for family and friends.

Crocheted angels and peppermints, handmade by my husband’s talented mother, speak a beautiful reminder of her love for her children and grandchildren and bring a piece of her into our home.

Lace angels represent the first children’s program I created and implemented, and the “angel” helpers who faithfully volunteered each Wednesday night.

The quilt button ornaments testify to their creators, the dear ladies of the quilting group from our home church, who patiently worked with my daughters every Monday for years, teaching them how to sew and quilt and love Jesus and each other.

Golden filigree ornaments, picturing far-away places where our family has traveled together, whisper the stories of our experiences there.

Blown-glass ornaments from Little Nashville, where we went on a field trip to watch the glass blower at work after studying ancient Phoenicia, remind me of the joys of our homeschooling journey.

Handmade Thai and Karen ornaments mark this new phase of our life as a family.

And joining all of these symbols of the past are new ornaments from friends and family back in the states, sent over to us here in Thailand as a reminder that we are still loved and remembered.

Maybe our Christmas tree IS a symbol of the true meaning of Christmas: that God is a good and gracious God, who delights in giving good gifts to His children, whose mercy prompted Him to give up His own family – His son – so that our family could be blessed, both here on earth and throughout eternity with Him.