Is Your Christmas Tree Still Up?

Ours is and here’s why (a lesson on making room)

I look out our living room windows and see the setting sun. The evening light filters through creating rainbow prisms as well as showing all the dust particles in the air and on our furniture. White lights twinkle on our Christmas tree.

The tradition of putting our tree up happened as usual on Thanksgiving to the beat of Pentatonix Christmas and Rocking Around the Christmas Tree. Now, weeks later, unwrapped Christmas gifts are strewn on the floor and our HO model train runs along the circular track around the base of the tree. 

The calendar is well past January 6th, the traditional end of the Christmas season, but our artificial Christmas tree still stands.

I see the light from the hallway’s night light before I hear any footsteps or sounds. Our bedroom door opens and our son, Isaac, walks in. His brown, dinosaur blanket covers his head and drapes across his shoulders and down his back. Standing next to my side of the bed he whispers, “Can I sleep with you?” 

“What time is it?” I ask with a sigh. 

“4:16” he tells with excitement.

“Fine,” I say as I scoot over making a little room for him to hop over me and squeeze between Stephen and I. In a few minutes I feel his warm toes pressed against my legs and hear his change in breathing. I place my arm around his shoulders and close my eyes for sleep. 

The view from our living room still includes the Christmas tree and snow-covered trees. I don’t have plans to take down the tree, just yet. And I don’t have the heart to tell our son “no” when he comes into our room in the early morning. And I can’t help but think that this is the heart of the Christmas message — there’s always room. 

God’s love isn’t meant to be contained or boxed up.

Christmas shows us over and over again what it means to make room. God made room in this world for his son to be born among us. Mary and Joseph made room in their family to welcome God’s son and do the impossible. The animals made room in the stable to welcome the baby.

Maybe that’s why I’m not in a rush to take down the tree; I need the reminder to make room in the day-to-day of my life. Room for self-compassion when I lose my patience once again. Room for dwelling in God’s word. Room for deep breaths trusting that God’s spirit is close at hand. Room for my children’s endless questions and wonderings. Room to look up and gaze at the rising and setting sun. 

But it’s not only about my ability to make room, God has made a place for me — seeing and loving all of me. All of us.

For God constantly makes room for all God’s people. God makes a place at the table and in God’s heart for the weary and doubtful, believers and cynics, joyful and heavy-laden.

Look to the light shining in the darkness, God is there.