Decorating my tree this year was a monumental task. My husband and I had set it in the great-room over a week ago, but I just couldn’t get motivated to put the ornaments on. Tree decorating has always been a huge Reid family project, and this year my household was too quiet. None of my children were home. And all the Reid family traditions were packed away in my heart for a different Christmas. This year just felt uninspired . . . even sad, if I let my heart go there.
But on a day when my husband was out of town and Kirkhaven was utterly quiet . . . except, of course, for some periodic poodle yapping . . . my dear friend called and asked if she could come to help me decorate. Such a dear, wonderful friend. I built a fire in the fire place, turned on the Christmas music, and hauled several boxes of decorations up from the basement storage room. My friend and I worked in earnest for several hours opening boxes, strategically placing ornaments, and even climbing a huge ladder to reach the top tier of my stone fireplace mantel.
By late afternoon, Kirkhaven was full of Christmas cheer and the tree was done.
My friend had gone home to her own family, and I was sitting alone by the tree’s soft glimmer in the Kirkhaven early evening. That’s when I decided to try some low-light photography. I wondered if I could capture its beautiful amber glow with my new Sony camera. I turned the flash to “off” and began snapping shots of the tree from different locations in the room. Then I tried some close-up shots of different ornaments. The low-light conditions proved to be a challenge in managing the focus, but the difficulty left me even more determined to see my project through to success. I used a chair for a tri-pod. I lay on the floor and propped the camera on my knee. I really wanted to capture two things: the parts of my Christmas tree, and then the whole of it. In its own natural light.
God was doing something in my heart and it was spilling out of my mind and my hands at a frantic pace. I HAD to take the pictures. And I HAD to understand what they meant. I knew, I simply knew, that there was MORE to my Christmas this year than old memories and hidden sadness. I couldn’t see what gift Father had. I couldn’t even imagine that a gift could make any difference. But I knew the Lord was doing something and I was determined to see it through.
As I reviewed all the photos on my computer, saving the few that I really liked and deleting the many that weren’t very good, I realized something. My Christmas tree was more than the sum of its parts. I could photograph each part. And I could photograph the whole. But there was more there than I could capture in my carefully crafted mega bites.
And Christmas itself was more than the sum of its parts. More than parties and family traditions. More than gift buying and gift giving. Even more than all the well-meaning sentiments behind it all.
And life was more than the sum of its parts. More than the minutes and hours and days that pile up year upon year. More than the collections of celebrations that get tucked away in our photo albums and our family stories. More than the sudden tragedies we never see coming but always try to figure out. More than the wonderful happinesses that surprise us with their blessed joys.
In the simple miracle of a dreary day and a faithful friend and a project finished, I had been given the gift of seeing beyond a collection of parts . . . and even beyond a carefully composed whole . . . to find the More that gave it all real life and real joy and real meaning.
The More is a person. Jesus. Messiah. Lord.
I don’t have a picture of Him to share with you. But I do have a life testimony. He is More. More than you have ever known. More than you could ever hope for. More than the collected parts of your life. More, even, than the understood whole. He infuses it all with His love and holds it all together with His mercy and grace.
He is Life itself. At its absolute fullest.
In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men.
John 1:4 (NASB)
Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life . . . "
John 14:6 (NASB)
Merry Christmas.
Happy New Year.
May you find More.
Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid
