Why Christmas Trees
Are Not Perfect
They say that if you creep into an evergreen forest late at night you can hear the trees talking. In the whisper of the wind you'll catch the older pines reassuring the younger ones why they'll never be perfectly shaped. There will always be a bent branch here, a gap there . . .
Long, long ago evergreens were perfect. This was particularly true in a small kingdom deep in Europe beyond the Carpathian Mountains.
On the first Saturday of Advent the Queen's woodsmen would search the royal forest for the most perfect tree. It would then reign in the castle, shimmering with candles. While a Yule log crackled, the royal family and villagers would sing around the tree in celebration.
Out in the hushed forest every evergreen vied for this honor. One cold night when a bright white moon glittered on the crusty snow, a small rabbit limped into the evergreens, its sides heaving in panic. Beyond the hill rose the yelping of village dogs in the thrill of the hunt. The rabbit frantically searched for cover but found nothing among the dark trunks. Faster and faster it circled as the excited yelping increased. The trees frowned at this interruption of their evening (when growing was at its best).
And then a small pine shuddered. Of all the young trees, it promised to be the finest of the forest. Everything about it, from its deep seagreen color to the delicate curl of its branches, was perfect. But now . . . its lower branches began to dip down to the ground. And just before the slavering dogs arrived, the rabbit found safety within the branches. In the morning the bunny found its burrow. But the little pine could not quite lift its branches. No matter; perhaps a little irregularity would not be noticed.
Then a powerful blizzard lashed the land. Villagers slammed shutters while birds and animals huddled in nests and dens. A small wren, blown astray, desperately sought sanctuary in the evergreens, but each one clenched it branches. Finally, she fell exhausted into the little pine. The pine's heart opened and so did its boughs, and the wren slept warm within them. But the pine had difficulty rearranging its branches. There would be a gap, evermore.
Winter deepened, bringing a gale never before experienced in the mountains. A small fawn, that had wandered from its mother, inched into the evergreens, seeking a windbreak. But the trees opened their branches to the wind to avoid dangerous bending. Again the little pine took pity and closing its branches formed a tight wall behind the fawn safely huddled. But alas, when the wind ceased, the small pine had been permanently bent out of shape. A tear of pine gun oozed from a branch tip. Now it could never hope to be honored.
Lost in despair, the little pine did not see the good Queen come into the forest in her sleigh to choose the finest tree. When she saw the little pine, anger filled her. A tree with such defects in the royal forest? She was about to order it disposed of, but then stopped and glanced back at it. As she gazed on it, she noticed the tracks of small animals that had found shelter under it and a downy feather where a bird had nested. And, as she studied the gaping hole in its side and the wind-whipped trunk, understanding filled her heart.
"This one," she said. And to the astonishment of the forest, the little pine was borne to the castle. Everyone said it was the finest Christmas tree yet. For in looking at its gnarled, worn branches, many saw the protecting arm of their father, others the comforting bosom of a mother, and some, as did the wise Queen, saw the love of Christ expressed on earth.
So if you walk among the evergreens today, you will find, along with rabbits, birds, and other living things, dropped branches providing cover, gaps offering resting places, forms bent from wrestling winter winds.
For, as with many of us, the trees have learned that the scars suffered for the sake of others makes one most beautiful in the eyes of God.
Please pray for peace.
~ God Bless ~
Roger, Laurie, Corey, Lady, Samson, Buddie, and Little Mister
