As I recall: Lessons learned from Christmas decorating

Due to some renovations and repairs for which we finally got "a round tuit," our Christmas decorating was a bit later this year, and some of it was spread over several days rather than the usual timeline of tackling the majority of it within a single day. In the process this year, there were a few occurrences which caused me to travel down some different trains of thought. For the past several years since I located a duplicate of the "Sputnik" star that my mother used on our live Christmas trees when I was a child, I have decorated a smaller "retro" tree which utilizes that star, big lights, icicles and some "old fashioned" style ornaments obtained from the Christmas Place in Pigeon Forge. This year, as I was placing those ornaments on the tree, one of the cardboard boxes fell from the love seat onto the carpet. Unfortunately, one of the glass ornaments suffered in the process, with a gash which could not be repaired with glue. Of course, I was upset at my carelessness in allowing the box to fall, and at first, I was going to toss the ornament in the trash. However, as I looked at the ornament, much of it had survived, and if placed strategically, the blemish would not be noticeable. The mishap with the ornament caused me to ponder the fact that in one way or another, almost all of us are broken in some respect. This observation does not necessarily have to mean that that it is true for many of us in any melodramatic kind of way, although, unfortunately, that may be the case for some. Regardless of the degree to which there is any brokenness in our lives, the question is to what extent are we going to allow that brokenness to define us? Are we going to consider ourselves as worthy only to be discarded, as I was about to do my with ornament? Or are we going to attempt to find ways in which, either despite or because of our brokenness, we can be useful and find a way to shine nonetheless? In Sunday School years ago, I can recall reading a story about a young girl who had earned and saved enough money to purchase her mother a blue glass pitcher for Christmas. I can remember my own excitement when my focus about Christmas had shifted from anticipating what I might receive to contemplating what I might give to others. In any case, the pitcher was obtained, but unfortunately, the girl's little brother accidentally broke it. While the girl was able to react in a spirit of forgiveness, she was terribly disappointed that she would not be able to give her mother the much-anticipated gift. Although I do not recall the specific details, someone that the girl knew worked with glass in an artistic way, and that individual took the broken glass and crafted into what I think was a beautiful star... so the girl had a gift for her mother after all, just in a different and perhaps even better way than she first imagined. It was a wonderful example of beauty coming from brokenness. After many years of wishing to do so, my wife and I finally acquired an outdoor nativity display. With placing an online order so late in the season, we were pleasantly surprised that it arrived within only a few days. However, by the look of the box, I knew that I was destined for three words which can evoke terror [perhaps only a slight exaggeration] within me: "some assembly required." Ironically, printed on the box was a message that I found puzzling and humorous... "Single Item...Do Not Open Box." Perhaps whoever was responsible for that wording had some good reason, but that admonition left me wondering just how I was supposed to get the item if I was not to open the box? I feel certain that my beloved Gracie Allen [of the comedy team Burns and Allen, to explain for those who may be a tad more youthful than me] would have left the box untouched, and perhaps even have gone so far as to place the unopened box in the spot on her yard that had been designated for the nativity scene display. In any case, with some initial assistance from my wife and assistance toward the end of the process from my son [who does not have his father's trepidation about assembly of items], the display was assembled. Nightfall revealed a manufacturing flaw, however, that the strand of lights did not extend to the star. My own addition of a strand of clear lights remedied that matter. Points to be taken... we need light so that flaws can be rectified... and stars are meant to shine, to guide and to be seen. ••• Mike Baker is a local author. Mike Baker is a local author. CONTRIBUTED