Two Trees This Christmas

We finally did it! This year, we got our outside lights up the day after Thanksgiving. That sets the record as our family’s earliest time ever to decorate the outside of the house. We did it early so that we could have Laura, who was home from college for Thanksgiving, help with stringing the lights. But as early as we were on the outside lights – we just got our tree up inside yesterday! (We can’t blame that on Laura – just being too busy!). Sure it’s a little late, but it’s up and shining brightly! (See picture).

I’m all for putting up Christmas trees as we get ready to celebrate the birth of Jesus (whether early or late) but I wanted you to see a different kind of tree as well. The other day in the StrongFamilies Sunday School class that my wife and I teach at Scottsdale Bible Church, I asked people to share one of their “Christmas traditions” with us. We heard some great things, but one tradition I’d never heard before and wanted to pass along to you.

Joel and Marcela Waggener have a very different kind of Christmas tree. In fact, it’s so cool – the Trent family decided that starting this year, we’re going to put up “Two Trees.”

Our “normal” tree is covered with lights and with all the Christmas ornaments we’ve collected over the years. Glass ornaments that say things like, “Our first year of Marriage 1979” and “Baby’s First Christmas 1986” and another with “1990.” There are two homemade ornaments that the kids made when they were young and fun ones like the stingray ornament from a vacation to the Cayman Islands years ago. But in addition to this tree, we’re going to get a small second tree as well. Why two trees??

In Joel and Marcela’s house, they have a tree (see picture) that has some very unusual decorations. In fact, on their tree they have a bagel, adoption papers, small maps, miniature construction trucks, a bar of soap, and a door! Here’s why…

Each of these items can be placed on the tree to remind us of our relationship and identity in Christ and to provide an opportunity to share the Good News with those who come into our home. For example, Marcela had a workman at the house the other day and when he saw the tree he said, “What kind of tree is that?” She shared with him about why they put bagels and maps and soap on the tree – and the workman got tears in his eyes! Here’s what she shared with him…

The Bagel - John 6:35 – is a picture of how Jesus is the Bread of Life

A 12” Ruler - 1 John 4:9-10 – is a picture of how God does not measure our performance, because HE was satisfied with Jesus’ dying for us on the Cross.

The American flag - Philippians 3:20 – We love our country, but our most important citizenship is in heaven.

A Bar of soap - 1 John 1:9 - Jesus forgives us and washes away all of our sins.

Some small Maps - John 14:6 - Jesus is the only Way

A Door – Revelation 3:20 – Behold I stand at the door and knock… anyone who opens the door, opens their heart to a relationship with Jesus!

Marcela got the idea from someone sharing at a Women's Bible study several years ago. It's based on a booklet by Darlene Danninger, called the “Jesus and Me Tree”. More information about the book can be found at Darlene’s website here.

Darlene believes the idea has been around for many many years...it was parents and grandparents ways of putting Christ back in Christmas in a very simple and inexpensive way...they used what they had in their home or items they could make out of paper or clay. (Their tree is shown too.)

All that to say, you might want to have “two trees” next Christmas! A great idea to share the “why” of Christmas along with the tradition and joy of Christmas!

Next Blog: Choose The 2 Degree Difference - instead of making a New Years Resolution...

...and GO FROGS! (TCU – where I graduated) is in the Fiesta Bowl January 4^th!.

Showing our Kids a “Great Light” this Christmas

Several years ago, on a rainy August day, two young adventurers decided to scale the highest summit wholly within Switzerland, called Mount Dom, near Zermatt, Switzerland. At 14,942 feet, it's higher even than the Matterhorn.

Even though they were inexperienced in mountain climbing, they were “in shape” college students and they felt confident in their mountain climbing abilities. Too confident, it turned out. For at noon, despite deteriorating weather, they boldly strode forth from the tiny village of Randa at the base of the Dom. Their goal was a house halfway up the mountain called the “High Hut” where they would spend the night before tackling the icy summit the next morning.

The two moved quickly up the forested trail as the rain continued to fall and even intensify. The sky darkened as they climbed upward, and the temperature dropped significantly. Because their goal was the "high hut" staffed by the Swiss Alpine Club, not the summit, they hadn't bothered to bring cold-weather gear. They soon regretted that fact as the constant rain soaked through their inadequate clothing.

At six o'clock P.M. they were still climbing when the rain suddenly turned to snow. They had long since crossed the timberline, and the trail before them was increasingly difficult to follow. By eight o'clock P.M. darkness had fallen, and they both knew they weren't just lost – they were in life-threatening trouble. They were soaked, shivering, and at risk of hypothermia. In the pitch-black darkness they had no way of knowing whether they were still headed toward the "high hut." Their path had disappeared, and they carried no tent or sleeping bags to shelter them from the storm or help them escape the cold.

Suddenly, just when their situation was most desperate, something miraculous happened. From a great distance away, a tiny light began to flicker. Even at a distance the faint glow looked as bright as a lighthouse beacon to those two shivering, frightened young men.

Where did it come from? Before retiring for the night, the keeper of the Dom's "high hut" had decided to step outside and place a kerosene lamp next to the door – just in case a beacon might be needed by anyone caught in the worsening storm. Encouraged, the boys pressed forward and in a few minutes found shelter that saved their lives.

That true story says much about the world our children face – and something we can do to help them. Children begin a journey in life full of high aspirations, often naive to the fact that they are walking right into the gathering darkness of a fallen world. On their own, even with loads of self-confidence and the vitality of youth, they will face a world growing darker and colder to God, His love, and His life.

Those two climbers couldn't find their own way that night; they needed a light to guide them to life and safety ... and someone willing to put that light where it could be seen.

This Christmas season, we can do something similar to what that “High Hut” keeper. In a world” to our children. The “light of the world” Himself was announced by His Father when He put a great “light” (a star) in the sky – and star that Wise Men and shepherds -- and wise men and women today -- still follow. The Child they found would become none other then the savior of all those who would look to Him in faith.

Or put in biblical terms, “The people who were sitting in darkness saw a great light, and those who were sitting in the land and shadow of death, upon them a light dawned.” Matthew 4:16.

May the Lord’s light and love shine on you and your family this Christmas season – and may we all keep holding out that light to our children, friends, family and a world that need His light!

Several years ago, I read an incredible story that I put into a book I wrote that’s filled with beautiful pictures by my friend, Thomas Kinkade. The book is called, The Light of Home, and I’ve never put the story online. However, in these challenging times, I hope it encourages you and your family this Christmas. John Trent

God Changes a Marine’s Heart with a Smile on Christmas

It was December 24, 1944. Christmas that year was a tough time for our country, especially for one young Marine sitting stiffly in an overcrowded train. This was day two of four days and four nights that Corporal Edward Andrusko would spend traveling by train from San Diego to New York. Each passenger car was packed with sailors, soldiers, and Marines trying to get home for Christmas.

Already they had traveled through bleak deserts, a blizzard in Denver, and what seemed like endless frozen prairies and farmland. The whole trip inched by under unrelenting gray clouds, but time didn’t seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter. Recovering from his third wound received in battle, and with a painful cause of malaria, Corporal Andrusko would arrive home in New York the day after Christmas. Even that seemed fitting.

“I would miss Christmas at home by a day,” he wrote afterward. “My parents had split up, and I had no home to go to. My girlfriend of four years sent me a Dear John letter, saying she had waited too long for me to return and found someone else. And worst of all, when I was well enough for duty, I could be sent overseas to battle again.”

Darkness had fallen and the rain had stopped at a small, dimly lit railroad station about two hours outside Chicago. Large snowdrifts blocked any view from the train. In that cold, dark tunnel of a station, peace and light and love – even thoughts of a loving God – seemed nonexistent. Earlier in the evening, Andrusko had spoken with a fellow Marine nicknamed “Ski” who was returning home, minus his right arm. He remembers, “Ski and I agreed that we had both became near atheists and cynics after three years of war.”

For one Marine at least, all that would change with a smile.

“It came upon a midnight clear…”

Few men were awake as they sat at the station, but Andrusko’s latest war wound and the malaria his body fought made sleep a challenge – particularly having to sleep sitting up the entire trip. At that darkest moment in his young life, the door at the other end of the train car opened.

From Andrusko’s seat far in the back, he could barely see a small boy and an elderly lady enter the car. He lost sight of them altogether as they walked slowly down the isle. Apparently they were looking for a seat. Andrusko closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but a noise near him caused him to open his eyes.

Standing right in front of him was the young boy and the elderly lady.

“Welcome home and Merry Christmas, Marine.” The young boy smiled as he extended his little hand. “My grandmother and I would like to give you a gift and thank you for serving our country.” The little boy shook the wounded Marine’s hand and handed him a crumpled one dollar bill. His grandmother put her arm around him and said, “God bless you.” And then they both smiled and said, “Merry Christmas, and goodbye.”

Andrusko asked them to wait and tried to grab his sea bag from under the seat to try to find a candy bar or some kind of gift he could give them, but when he looked up, they were gone – so quickly that he wondered if what had just happened was real or a dream. Later, he asked his friend Ski and two soldiers nearby if they’d seen the young boy and his grandmother come onto the train. No one had. They told him he was dreaming. Yet there in his had was the crumpled one dollar bill.

With that smile and small gift, “I contently fell asleep with my precious gift tucked safely in my pocket,” he recounted, “and a pleasant feeling in my heart, the nicest feeling I had had in a very long time.”

Corporal Andrusko credits that night with changing his bitter feelings after the war. But in his mind, it took another child, many years later, to explain to him why that was true.

More then 50 years passed, and the Marine on the train was now as old as the grandmother he’d met that night. It was Christmastime again, and Corporal Andrusko was surrounded by his family gathered for a Christmas celebration, not a train full of weary soldiers. During a lull in the activity, he recounted to everyone the story of the little boy on the train. He hadn’t shared the story before. It was the reminiscing of a soldier grown old who had struggled a long time with an unanswered question. As he finished, Andrusko asked , really to no one in particular.

“Who was that little boy on the train, and why did he and his grandmother choose me? Why me?”

A young niece was visiting, and she had listened to her uncle’s wartime story and his unanswered questions.

“I know,” she said quietly.

Everyone stopped and looked at her.

The old Marine said, “You know what?”

“I know who the little boy on the train was, and why he picked you.” She paused, very deliberately, and then said,

“The little boy was God, and He chose you because you were very, very sad and disappointed with everyone and everything. He wanted to make you happy again and welcome you home – and He did."

Leave it to a young child to make sense of things – and to The Child named Jesus – to light up our lives and hearts during this challenging Christmas as well.

Merry Christmas from StrongFamilies.com!

Origin of this story and how you can find the book, The Light of Home:

I wrote this story for my book, “The Light of Home, by John Trent, paintings by Thomas Kinkade, Harvest House Publishers, Eugene, OR, 2002, Chapter Eight: Remembering to Smile, pgs 92-96. I adapted it from Michael Shol and Tom Spain, eds., “Miracle on a Train,” in I’ll Be Home for Christmas: The Library of Congress Revisits the Spirit of Christmas During World War II (New York: Delacorte Press, 1999), pp. 127-210. “Miracle on a Train” was originally published as: Edward Andrusko, “Welcome Home and Merry Christmas,” in Navy Times, March 19, 1997. Used in my book by permission.

"The Light of Home" and other great Christmas gifts can be ordered online at the StrongFamilies Bookstore