The Christmas Tree, Part 1

The wind moaned through the tall fir trees that framed my white cottage in northern Minnesota. I carried Nick and the groceries through crunchy snow inside to warmth. Christmas was now about a month away, my first Christmas as a single parent. Switching on lamps, the gold carpeted living room glowed warmly. Nick ran to the toy box and I started supper.

"How would we celebrate Christmas?" I wondered. My parents were half a world away in Irian Jaya, Indonesia as mission workers, where I had grown up. Nick’s grandparents were in Arizona. His dad Zachary was living with Myrna seven miles west in the hamlet of Ebro where we had pastored a year ago. The small nativity presentation had been precious last year…now the interim pastor would carry on as best he could.

I stirred macaroni noodles into boiling water and put hot dogs in a pan to fry. The wind sifted snow against the kitchen window. I thought of Lee my friend with gratefulness. She and Josh had rented me this house, and they would likely have me to dinner Christmas Eve with their teenage children. That would help. And I would work 3-11 Christmas Day at the Fosston Hospital.

When dinner was ready I lifted Nick into his wooden high chair and lit the candle on the table. Every evening we feasted with Jesus. He sat where Zachary would have, at right angles to me, and the candle represented the Lord’s Presence. He lifted the pain, filled the emptiness.

Later, on the sofa beneath golden light I read a simple Bible story to Nick gave him a blessing as I tucked him into his crib. Sitting back on the couch and reflecting, I glanced at the large framed print on the wall across from me. A picture of the Marriage Supper of the Lamb—a long table of elegant place settings radiant with light.

Somehow the picture centered me. My circumstances were shaky, but inside I could be secure with Jesus. My Husband. Someday as the bride I would be seated at that heavenly table with loved ones—with Jesus at the head of the table.

It’s going to be ok, I decided. You are here, Lord, and I have eternal hope. I remembered from Psalms,

“In your presence is fullness of joy,

At your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”