She is here…she is waiting. Our beloved Christmas tree angel has survived another year. The years have not been kind. Her hair continues to fall away and there is little left of her once radiant halo. Her
misshaped hand clings to a barely recognizable candle and the glue keeping her head attached has discolored and cracked…but she is still here waiting. She is waiting for our daughter Ashley’s arrival. She will place her atop our tree, a tradition that gets more entertaining each year now that her dad can no longer easily lift her up to accomplish the task.
Once again I find myself connected to this angel as I consider the wait. Waiting is
hard. When my granddaughters struggle with waiting I let them know I understand… “I know it’s hard to
wait.” My daughter-in-law sent me a sweet video of our little Brooklyn telling her friend when they were told itwas not time for dinner yet, “My friend Nana says it’s hard to wait”. I hear her little voice in my head today as I think about how hard it is to wait even now. Waiting for closure, answers, direction, healing, growth…waiting for things to be clear, for conflicts to be resolved, for chaos and confusion to
settle into order and understanding…waiting is hard. While we wait there is work to do, people to love and the hope and grace through Jesus Christ to share.
“I wait for the Lord. My whole being waits, and in His Word I put my hope.” Psalm 130:5
Here again, the annual retelling of “The Christmas Tree Angel”.
Merry Christmas dear friends and family.
I’m not sure where she came from. (update: someone recognized
her and informed me she is a Nuremberg angel!) I’m not even certain of her
age. (update: As a Nuremberg angel, we probably acquired her when my
family lived in Germany when dad was in the Air Force…this would make her well
over 50 yrs!)
She sat atop the Christmas tree for many of my growing up years,
quietly presiding over each holiday season. I acquired her from my mother
many years ago.
Her gold foil, cardboard wings, once ended in perfect points
extending her stature to seven inches. Now her wing span is slightly
reduced, as the tips went from being slightly bent, to folded, until they
eventually tore off. Her dark red velvet dress, trimmed with gold brick
brack, fits snuggly to her waist before flowing over her cardboard form.
Her once silky, radiant white hair, now hangs in brittle coils around her
shoulders. A little gold foil halo covers a place on her head where some
of her hair has given way to the passage of time.
Her head and hands are made of wax, as is the candle she holds in
one hand. I remember her as a beautiful lady, her face perfect and
delicate. Those qualities are now faded. Her head, once held high
and straight, has melted somewhat. It now bows lovingly downward and a
bit to the right. Two years ago a significant amount of time and effort
was put into re-attaching her long held candle to her now miss shaped
hand. Yep, she’s a bit of mess you might say. I like that about
her.
She doesn’t light up or sparkle, and quite often she is too small
for the tree, making her look even more out of place. But I look forward
to her presence in my living room each Christmas. Late at night, when the
tree is lit and others have gone on to bed, I find myself thinking of her and
all we have in common.
I too, know what it’s like to have my wings bent and torn. I
know what it feels like when your body gives itself over to the challenges of
time. My hair is no longer silky or radiant, and I only wish had a halo
to hide the places where it has become thin. I understand the sagging of
her shoulders and the bowing of her head. I have felt the weight every
mother bears for her family. I know the need to bow my head in constant
prayer. I love her imperfection. She’s a holiday reminder
that God loves us in our imperfection.
A love full of grace, a savior born to take on the sin of the world,
a reason to celebrate, reflected in the melted features and unraveled edges of
our Christmas tree Angel.
Tuesday With Teri 