O Christmas Tree

Moving to northern British Columbia is a commitment. It's not something you kind of do. You're either in, or you're out (Ooh, I feel so Heidi Klum-ish). Some things are just mandatory. You will get winter tires. You will have a cracked up windshield from all of the gravel they throw on the roads when it snows. You will end up eating wild game at one point. You may be unaware at the time, but it will happen.

Trevor and I had a deep respect for the "people of the north" (Catchy, huh? One day I'm going to write a book with that title.) since the day we moved up here. Our goal was to emulate their pioneering spirit, their ability to be self-sustainable, their mammoth diesel-powered trucks that plow through snow banks like the Pamplona bulls trampling a crowd of innocent bystanders.

We started recycling. We planted a garden. I tell you- the size of people's gardens up here- developers in Surrey could fit 12 red brick townhouses (with attached garage) in these garden plots. These are serious gardens. With irrigation systems and lattice and, um, other gardeny things. Ours- notsomuch. But we did get some vegetables out of it.

I made homemade chicken stock. And bread. And learned to sew. I'm like the modern day Laura Ingalls Wilder. We've even gone camping in the woods and didn't leave when we had a bear sighting.

And we cut down our own Christmas tree.

No, not at one of those wussy tree farms. They don't have sissy things like that in these here parts. We cut down trees the old fashioned way.

At night. (because during Christmas time the sun sets here at 4 p.m.)

In the woods where a moose can eat you. (Moose are vicious, vindictive creatures.)

In the woods two football field lengths away from your van. Which you just hiked from through some farmer's field. In your inappropriate winter attire. In four feet of snow.

"Hmm... That tree looks good.

Yes, I know it's a huge tree. Just cut off the top. Yep, that looks perfect."

Drag the tree back to the van. The tree is twenty seven feet tall.

And ten feet wide.

With huge gaping holes in it everywhere.

Like Charlie Brown's tree took steroids.

And it has pine cones.

And probably a raccoon. Or two.

Who's idea was this, anyway?

You get the tree home, thinking it's going to at least make your house smell nice.

Nope. It smells like rotting animal.

Um, did we pick a tree in some sort of weird reproductive cycle? It does have pine cones.

Do trees have reproductive cycles?

Christmas is over (thank God) and we can get this eyesore of an excuse for a Christmas tree out of our house. And burn a candle to cover up that wretched smell.

What should we do with it now?

I hear the boy scouts have a tree pick up in a few weeks.

Meh. There's six feet of snow outside. Let's stick it in the snow next to the fence until I think of something (Trevor).

Hey, it looks like a normal tree growing by our fence.

It actually looks kind of nice. Let's leave it there.

Now it's March 17th- Um, the snow's melting. What are we going to do with the Christmas tree?

Part of me is hoping that the tree miraculously reconnected with mother earth and is happily living life there in the ground next to our fence. Hey, I heard a guy randomly inhaled an evergreen seed and had a spruce seedling growing in his lungs!

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/04/13/tree-growing-in-mans-lung_n_186279.html

So, all I'm saying is it could happen.

But chances aren't looking good. The tree's looking browner by the day. And sooner or later, somebody (Trevor) is going to have to deal with it.

I was teaching the kids in church on Sunday about Jesus the vine, and us the branches. How we must stay connected to God to grow. To be healthy. To have life. To bear fruit.

I always thought of it as one or the other. Either you are connected to God, or you're obviously disconnected. Now I realize that a lot of us are disconnected and trying to hide it. Pretending like under the snow we're still connected to the source. Trying through good works to produce our own fruit with our own strength.

We're a Christmas tree. Trying to look all alive when we're dying.

How long can we hold on until we can't keep it together anymore? Until the edges start fraying, our leaves start sagging and our coloring fades to a dull brown?

The snow will eventually melt and expose us for who we really are.

Pretenders.

The good news is we have a way to reconnect.

God is passionate about you. He created you. He loves you. And He wants relationship with you. He wants you to stick to Him.

So He waits.

He waits to hear your voice.

He waits for you to answer his knocking.

He waits to give you life.

It's time to reconnect.

"Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing."
John 15:5

I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will give you mighty inner strength through his Holy Spirit.
And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts as you trust in him. May your roots go down deep into the soil of God's marvelous love.
Ephesians 3:16&17

And next year, we're getting a fake tree.