PLEASE NOTE:  TODAY’S POST IS BASED ON THE CHRISTMAS LETTER I INCLUDED WITH MY CARDS THIS YEAR.

A friend asked the significance of the crosses on my Christmas tree. After all, we’re celebrating the birth of Jesus in this season and not his death.

On the first teaching card in the Godly Play lesson titled Faces of Easter we don’t even see the face of Jesus; rather, we see the faces He sees as he looks up as a newborn. Part of the lesson says, “The baby may even see the image of the cross on the faces of Mother Mary and Father Joseph.” As the teacher says those words she gently finger-draws a cross just above the bridge of the nose on the faces of Mary and Joseph.

To me, Christmas and Easter are inextricably linked. You can’t have one without the other.

And one way they’re linked is by something as simple as a breath. Jesus took his first breath the moment he was born and his last breath when he died on the cross that Good Friday.

Unless we have a medical condition that inhibits our ability to breathe, we give virtually no thought to this autonomic body function that connects us to the universe. Go ahead right now and take a deep breath and appreciate what links you to the rest of humanity.

When we’re desperately ill, we may not be able to breathe on our own. And when we’re frightened or numb with anxiety or grief-stricken, it can seem as if we have forgotten even how to breathe.

One of my favorite Christmas songs is Breath of Heaven sung by Amy Grant. Songwriter Chris Eaton, a friend of Amy’s, originally wrote the song with different lyrics except for the chorus. Amy convinced him to let her rewrite the words to tell the Christmas story from Mary’s perspective.

Grant says the song has turned into a prayer for her. The reason it turns into a prayer is that it fits the circumstances of so many people; it is a cry for mercy. On songfacts.com she is quoted as saying: “Some nights on stage I can hardly get through the song for knowing all of the collective, unspoken pain of the lives in front of me. And so the words become my prayer for the listener…”

I think of each of you as I look at the crosses on my tree. Whatever joys fill your life, whatever heavy loads you are bearing this Christmas, my loving wish for you this season is a sense of peace with every breath you take.

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Amy Grant – Breath of Heaven

The cover of the Linnea Design calendar book

In this big-box store, Amazon-Prime economy, it’s easy to forget about the small businesses of the world. One Christmas gift for my daughter Laura was a gentle reminder to me that there are companies among us who truly care about each customer, who put their soul into their products, who want to astonish us by both their products and their service.

One of our family Christmas traditions concerns calendars; Laura thoughtfully chooses photos to match monthly birthdays and anniversaries then puts together a memory-filled Shutterstock photo calendar for me. I search for an interesting, nothing run-of-the-mill calendar that I know she’ll enjoy.

My search this year took me to Linnea Design via Amazon. They specialize in poster type calendars with rich colors. I could have bought the calendar on the Linnea site, but I got it for the same price plus free shipping on Amazon, so….

But when the Amazon package arrived in a regular Amazon box with bubble wrap, I realized I hadn’t read the description fully enough. The pages are indeed individual posters, so I needed to buy a frame for them. I went back to the Linnea site, ordered the frame and a monthly book (with the same poster pages) for my desk.

Upon its arrival, I found that the company had inadvertently sent another poster calendar along with the frame and book.  I called to let them know so they could adjust their shipping practices if necessary. But mainly I called to tell them how impressive their packaging is.

The poster calendar was in a bright red, heavy stock, tri-cut folder that fit the poster pages exactly. It was adorned with a wrap-around two-inch white ribbon and sticker. This was then placed inside green tissue paper, folded with precision, and taped. Clearly, someone invested time and care in ensuring that this looked great!

The phone was answered by a woman, a real person, on the second ring. I was trying to ascertain if there was a customer service manager, and the woman said, “Oh dear. It sounds like you’re calling with a complaint. How can I help you?”

When I said that actually I was calling to say thanks for making my day with this beautiful packaging and product, I could hear her beaming through the phone line. Then she said, “Wait until you see next year’s packaging! We’re already working on a custom ribbon.”

I did mention the extra calendar, and she said to keep it and thanks for letting them know, that she would pass it along. Then she said, “We have just six employees, so I won’t forget.”

Six employees. And according to their site, one of them appears to be a dog:

“Sparky, the Wonder Dog, is the morale officer in charge of snacking.”

Buying from a nice small company made my heart go pit-a-pat. I wonder which of the six employees wrapped the calendar. Although he’s referred to as a “wonder dog,” I’m willing to bet it wasn’t Sparky.

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Linnea Design

Photo by Norma Thatcher

My Christmas tree is lopsided by nature. It has some serious gaps. Branches stick out here and there. And it seems that every year I forget that Fraser firs relax and lower their branches as they adapt to our home’s indoor climate. So the ornaments hanging on my tree’s lowest branches are now grazing the floor.

I’m neither complaining nor upset. These anomalies make my tree all the more endearing to me.

In 1981 Woman’s Day magazine reprinted a story from Guidepost’s Family Christmas Book. Written by Dick Schneider, it told the story of an evergreen tree growing in a small kingdom in Europe. The tree believed it had a chance to win the most perfect tree contest; the prize was reigning in honor in the palace hall for everyone to admire.

Each evergreen vied for this honor. They kept their branches closed tightly so the sleet and snow wouldn’t cause issues with their perfection. On windy days they opened their branches so the breezes could pass through without causing harm.

But the star of the story took pity on various animals and birds as the winter weather got progressively worse. It lowered its bottom branches to protect a rabbit being chased by dogs. The tree opened its top branches to shelter a wren. During a windy gale, our tree with a heart protectively closed its branches around a fawn that had strayed from its mother.

So what had been absolute perfection was now a sorry sight. The bottom branches drooped. Gaps had been opened and would not close. The trunk leaned a little to the left. Broken branches oozed pine gum.

In fact, when the Queen arrived on her sleigh to choose the most perfect tree, she was horrified to see this example. She considered having it cut down and burned immediately. But then…she noticed the feathers sticking out from the upper branches and the tracks of the various animals that had found shelter and protection from the tree, and her heart melted with understanding.

When the Queen chose the damaged tree as the most perfect, everyone in the kingdom agreed. “For in looking at its gnarled and worn branches, many saw the protecting arm of their father, others the comforting bosom of a mother, and some, as did the Queen, saw the love of Christ expressed on earth.”

And that’s why real Christmas trees, including mine, are not perfect.

Trees serve as a role model for us. They remind us to open ourselves to the world, to serve others, to be the one that helps when others say no.

The last sentence of the original story sums it up beautifully: “…the trees have learned that the scars suffered for the sake of others make one most beautiful in the eyes of God.”