Sitting in the silence of early morning calm, favorite mug in hand, favorite dog asleep at my side, I let my eyes rest on the beauty of our Christmas tree. At least I think it is beautiful. It is filled to overflowing with ornaments of every assortment. Some are offerings carefully crafted with chubby, childlike “precision”. Some reveal particular interests or hobbies. Some hang in tribute to family members who have gone before us. Still others are inexpensive baubles included simply to illuminate and multiply light. I like a lot of light. Together they lend their unique charm as they hang in silent, majestic memory and splendor. There is so much of my heart that is addressed by this tree. It goes way back….

Recalling yesterday’s “Let’s put up the Christmas tree” undertaking (it took all day), I smile as I replay particular moments. Five-year-old Sofiia exclaiming that every single ornament she unwrapped was just bee-YOU-tee-ful! “Oh Pama, look at theese one!” It was a small, cheap plastic green candy cane. Couldn’t tell you where it came from, but in the eyes of this small child, it was lovely. The cats, as soon as the tree skirt was laid down, rushing in for their annual, “Hey, they brought us a tree again!” celebration. And of course, my husband Jan leaning close with his camera buried deep in the tree to capture that unique shot.

In my reverie, my eyes fix on one of my favorite adornments. It is a ceramic Native American angel, one of a set of three that my daughter Lisa gave me years ago. I always wait to put them up last because I want them displayed in just the right spots. Looking at her now, I remember pulling her from the box yesterday, and for a moment, thinking, “Oh, maybe I won’t put them up this year. I don’t want them to get broken”. Jan had the same knee-jerk reaction as a favorite ornament would be resurrected from its resting place. “We don’t need to put this one up if you don’t want to…..” Protect rather than offer beauty….

As I bask in the loveliness of our Christmas tree, I take special note of our most prized ornaments – the ones that display their beauty in the presence of inherent risk. For the first time, I acknowledge that I have had to release them to truly enjoy them. Their place of honor in the community of beauty and memories on our tree would sit stark and empty as a testament to fear and to the loss of true beauty that only comes in the face of risk.

And as always, the question comes back to me, “Am I willing to risk in order to offer the beauty of love in me? Risk rejection? Risk hurt? Risk misunderstanding? It is easy to put my heart in a box to ensure it will never get broken. It would be safe there. But my place in the world to which I have been asked to shine will sit stark and empty as a testament to fear. My true beauty, the beauty of Christ in me, will be never be offered. I think I will take the risk. I will offer my heart – the heart of God. My world, my family, my friends are worth it.

Shine.