Our familiar visitors

The time comes for us every January: that day when we finally have to take down the decorations and “put Christmas away” for another year. There’s an emptiness that always comes from that blank space in our living room where a tree once stood, a mantle now bereft of the Christmas cards that we received, or the fading scent of sugar cookies and apple pies. Putting Christmas away is a sure trigger for many for “post-holiday depression.”

But it doesn’t have to be that way.

This year, I would ask you this: Who came for Christmas to your house? No, I am not looking to report anyone to the governor for exceeding home gathering guidelines. I mean, who were the little visitors to your home this holiday season? Were they the familiar guests that you welcome each year? Perhaps, we aren’t even aware of their presence each Christmas season.

As I was preparing to harvest my own Christmas tree the other day, I was reminded of the familiar visitors I have hosted. There are many but let me share just one.

On my tree, hanging halfway up on the side near my “prayer chair,” hung a little brass ornament. It’s a little boy and girl in the style of those “Precious Moments” figurines. They are nose to nose, and the girl is dangling a little sprig of mistletoe over them. Below them, etched in cursive, is “Austin.”

That little ornament has been part of my Christmas for as long as I can remember. I don’t know where it came from, but my parents had it, and others like it, for myself and my sister and brothers, and they accumulated over the years. As we all grew up, moved out, and established our own homes, these ornaments slowly followed us all and now grace our trees.

These “visitors” are reminders of Christmases past. Like little ghosts, they call us back to those times when we sat in joyful wonder and regarded our home trees with expectant faith – simple faith – childlike faith. They are the visitors who remind us who we are and what is truly important. In that little brass ornament, mom and dad, my grandparents, my friends and family – all of them – are present, visiting for Christmas and making themselves comfortable for the season.

As I removed the ornament from the tree, I held it with what I can only describe as reverence, and I smiled at a memory of mom and dad passing those ornaments to their respective children as we decorated all those years ago. I was home – truly home.

This is what Christmas – and any holiday that we earnestly observe – can do. It calls us back to ourselves. The visitors that grace our places are gifts – much more so than brown paper packaged tied up with strings. They are strings. They are my favorite things. Christmas in particular reminds us of the love that God has had for us in sending us the ultimate Visitor – Jesus Christ, the Word who became flesh and dwelt among us. Maybe that is what these little visitors – the ornamental and the human – are meant to remind us.

Yes, that inevitable time of “undecorating” has to come. However, don’t let it be a source of sadness and regret. Rather, recall those little, familiar visitors who reminded you that you are truly loved with a love that makes a home.

And there’s no place like home.

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