For weeks, we'd been talking up the hunt for a Christmas tree. We are live tree people. Christmas would be short on nostalgia if it lacked pine needles on the floor, crawling under branches to water, fresh pine aroma, and perfectly imperfect shaped trees.
The latter had me thinking as we pulled up to rows and rows of evergreens, of a Christmastime story I loved to read as a child. It was about a king's yearly hunt for the perfect tree to adorn the great hall of his castle. The honor was cherished and sought after by all the trees in the royal forest. As such, the trees sought all the sunlight they could reach, kept their trunks tall and straight, and pulled their branches in tight to turn anyway any forest creatures who might nest therein.
All the trees could firmly reject animals seeking shelter, all but one tree. This lone, compassionate pine opened his branches for birds to nest, creating uneven gaps between limbs. Shielding rabbits from the weather, he bowed his trunk ever so slightly. To hide foxes from hunters, he dropped his lower branches so that they sagged shapelessly to the ground. He was the haven of all creatures in the wood, but the embarrassment of all the trees.
The time came for the king to chose his tree, and as the forest drew up to full, proud height, tall and perfect, the hopeless little crooked tree mourned its comparative deformity. He knew the glory of the great hall would never be his, and as the king stopped to look at him, he felt ashamed. But the king hadn't stopped in an air of disappointment, rather he stood in reverent awe. He could see the homes of the birds, the shelter for the rabbits and foxes, and recognized at once the benevolence beneath the outward appearance. He ordered that the tree be cut down that Christmas and the selfless tree was put on grand display for all to see and know that compassion was the greatest beauty of all.
Christmas is truly a season of compassion. And beyond helping others with good hearts and giving, there is still the true and great reason for which we celebrate. Christmas will always be a time for me to remember, thank, and praise Jesus Christ. I know that though of humble birth, he compassionately and meekly rose to give mankind the most priceless gift: eternal life. We are not perfect, but because he was and because he atoned for our mistakes, we can change our lives and -no matter what- we can become whole and healed. I hope that's something that the whole world can accept and understand, but especially I pray my family and children will know.
Christ has ever been my compassionate friend, and maybe it is my imperfect self and His kind love that I identify in the story of the imperfect tree, which endear it to me. I feel all misshapen and still somehow renewed at this time of year, and timeless reminders like a gappy, live tree always help me to realign myself for the better.
