Today a fresh Frasier fir stands in the corner of my living room. As the tree acclimates to the temperature of the room, the branches have opened, expanding the diameter of the lush green tutu circling the tree’s trunk. The needles are soft with no sign of brown anywhere.
For the moment the tree is completely bare. I love the days when the tree stands in its seven-foot nakedness. It is enough for it to just be here without its future wardrobe of lights and ornaments. The fragrance of forest fills the room. My living room is a little indoor/outdoor sanctuary, the best of both worlds–warmth and woods.
Sitting near the tree and doing nothing are the best part of Advent for me–even better than my intentional dsiciplines of reading, studying, doodling, and praying. When I think about Christmases past what I remember most is the lingering, those moments when I sat in a chair or sprawled under the tree. When I stop and say “Yes to Rest,” I have an inkling of what it means to “Be still and know that I am God.”