“Mary quietly treasured all these things in her heart and thought about them often.”
— Luke 2:19
For the past several weeks my wife, Barb, and I have been pulling things out of the attic with which to decorate our home for the holidays.
Some, we just pull out and put up without much thought. I have one of those (don’t stone me!) trees that goes up in about five minutes; the sections plug together, and the plug goes into a timer and — voila — a tree that lights up right where we want it, and when we want it.
That does seem to run against the grain for we wilderness types (using the term “we” very broadly), but it was forced upon us by circumstances far beyond our control. When we moved to Michigan back in the 1990s, we bought our annual Christmas tree at a tree lot a few blocks from our house. We got it home and set it up, and as the silly thing thawed out, it rained needles. It didn’t sprinkle needles; it was more of a tsunami of piney pokers. By morning, we had the skeletal remains of a tree and a deep dark green carpet comprised of fine noble fir detritus...