The Blue Ornament

I'm sitting here, wrapping presents and starting at my Christmas tree. The one my daughter and I took such care and time to decorate together. The one she has since decorated (and undecorated) each day since. The one that has brought her so much joy over the last couple of weeks. And it makes me happy. It makes me happy to put more presents under the tree for my husband and to fix the ornaments the way I like them and to have the presents arranged so that the whole thing looks pretty.
But about 3/4 of the way up that tree is a dark blue ornament with a white ribbon. And on that ornament is written "Josh 1988-2008" You see, you could take every meticulously placed blue, silver, and red ornaments off of that tree. You could take all the things off that Abbie and I worked so hard to put in the right place. You could tear the star off the top and unwrap all the lights. You could take the presents out and take away the skirt at the bottom of the tree.
But if you left that one blue ornament there, all alone on that tree, it would look the same to me as it does right now. Because when I look at that tree, that blue ornament might as well be all that is there. The less than 20 years my brother lived might as well be the only thing staring me in the face. And as far as I'm concerned, memories of his face could replace those presents. The candy canes could be snippets of his voice and every twinkling light could be his laughter. Everything about this wonderful tree reminds me that he is not here. And that he never will be for another Christmas. Everything on and under and around that tree reminds me that, while I'm here on earth, I'll never see him smile again or hear him laugh. He'll never pick my daughter up or tell another silly joke. Not here.
But it also reminds me of Jesus's sweet birthday. It reminds me of a time when there were no decorated Christmas trees. No tricked out light shows on every other house on the block. And when a humble man and woman brought a perfectly innocent and vulnerable baby into this world in a stable. When they wrapped him in cloth and laid him in a manger. It reminds me how gifts were brought to him and how we now give gifts to the ones we love today. That tree in my foyer reminds me of a precious baby that would grow into a man. A man who would die for my sins so that I might be saved from all of the many wrong things I have done. And because of that baby, because of that gift, I will see all the things that my Christmas tree represents.
I WILL see my brother smile again. And he will run and grab my daughter in his arms and swing her around. And he will laugh and he will tell jokes and he will be beautiful. I won't see those things here again. I'll have to wait. But that's okay because the best gifts are worth waiting for.
So this Christmas I will remember the joy that our tree brings. I vow to look to the promises of God and not of this earth. I promise to remember the treasures I have here on earth and in Heaven. And I promise to never forget how important the blue ornament is.