There’re coming back in style – those silver, retro, aluminum Christmas trees. The ones that have a rotating color wheel shining light on the silver tree: Red, green gold and blue.
That’s the type of Christmas tree we had growing up. Mama would put it up in the living room, in front of the big picture window. Each evening the curtains would be opened and the color wheel turned on, so that anyone driving by would see the lights.
My brother and I were forbidden to go in there. Because, you know, who wants to look into the window of a house expecting to see a colorful Christmas tree, and instead see two youngsters grinning and waving?
We were so excited about Christmas, it was hard to stay out of that room. We’d slip into the living room, lay on the floor and slither in our jammies, snake-like until we got to the tree. Never standing up (so as not to block the sightseers view), we would lay under the tree and watch the lights change: red… green…gold…blue. We could hardly wait for Christmas – for the arrival of Santa Claus who placed gifts under the tree. And for the arrival of the Baby Jesus in the manger, because there was no other place for Him to be born.
Funny, now that I’m pushing sixty, I still anticipate the coming of Christ, only in a different way. A way I didn’t realize until I read this obituary:
Mrs. Stevens is buried in Oak Park Cemetery, where her body will await the resurrection.
What a beautiful definition of advent: Waiting for Christ to return for His church. Waiting for that glorious resurrected body. By its very meaning, advent calls us to remember Whose arrival we await: Jesus. Immanuel.
Advent: The arrival of a notable person, thing or event.
And while we are waiting, remember this: We don’t wait alone. We have God with us. Immanuel.
As surely as God came down from heaven in the person of Jesus Christ, as surely as Jesus walked the face of this earth with His disciples, He tiptoes through our hearts and walks beside us. He is with us.
The first Christmas after Mama passed away was so very hard. There was a hole in my heart the size of Mt. Everest. I missed her and felt so lonely without her. But I had Immanuel. I allowed His words to fill the void. I allowed the God of all Comfort to comfort me. He was with me then, and is still with me today.
Perhaps you are missing a loved one this Christmas. Instead of anticipating with joy the advent of Christ, you want to crawl into a cave and hide. Don’t do it. Read His story of love. Let it fill your heart. Let Immanuel walk with you through this lonely time.
May the hope, love, peace and joy of Christ fill you this Christmas and always!