O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree!

My saddest Christmas decoration...and one of my favorites.

Our sweet advent calendar. If you're wondering, it's stuffed with Scripture and chocolate umbrellas.

Me and my man in our beautiful city after John's Christmas concert...yes, my hair is as long as it looks here. :)

The people who walk in darkness will see a great light; those who live in a dark land, the light will shine on them. Isaiah 9:2

It's cold and gray outside, but I'm sitting in my cozy apartment with my Christmas tree lit up, sipping hot tea from my beautiful Polish pottery tea set with the reindeer and holly berries, so life is pretty sweet. We went to John's Christmas concert last night in a beautiful church here in Wien, then walked around downtown before getting Burger King for supper and heading home. It was REALLY cold, but who cares when you live someplace that looks so gorgeous? Wien is beautiful year-round, to be sure, but she does some of her very best work at Christmas. Your city might have Christmas decorations, but ours has big chandeliers lining the walkway. Seriously. It's gorgeous. Marc said last night that living in Wien during Advent is like living in a Christmas carol for one month every year. And it's true. It is like that. Not that normal life doesn't go on, and not that there aren't still stresses and problems to deal with, because there are. But there is something lovely about living someplace that does Advent/Christmas so well.

And my little apartment is so CUTE! I am not a decorator, but Marc does a fine job of putting stuff together, and there are cute little decorations all over the place, including our sweet Christmas tree. Yes, it's artificial, but it is a really pretty artificial tree that I got from amazon for a steal, and it looks great every year. And different decorations, of course, have different meaning to me. Some are funny--little things the kids have made over the years, the ugliest ornaments on earth (a gift from two dear friends in Florida that has--literally--traveled with me wherever I've gone), precious mementos of places we've lived and people we've loved...just like your place, every little thing has meaning or reminds me of some precious memory. But of all our beautiful decorations, one of my favorites is also probably the ugliest. It's three little trees, decorated in gold ornaments, in three little wicker baskets. Those trees are cheap, they are bendable, they do not necessarily fit in with the beautiful decor from our time in Austria. But it's their meaning, the memories they bring to mind, the reminder they convey that makes them so special.

If I live in a Christmas carol here, that was not the case in Moscow. First of all, Russians celebrate Christmas in January, so December 25th is just another day to them. There is no silent night on Christmas Eve if you live in a construction zone, which we did. And the big holiday in Russia is New Year's, which is a giant BIG DEAL. So there are Christmas-y things around, trees, etc., but they are (or at least were, then) mostly for New Year's. By our second Christmas there, those things didn't bother me as much, especially because my Daddy and nephew came to visit, and I was 'used to' the way things were done in Russia. But that first Christmas, after only a couple of months there, with culture shock completely taking over our lives, the pressure of studying the language and homeschooling three kids...well, let's just say I was feeling a little Grinch-y. And to make things worse, Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday that year, so we went to church, which sounds like it would be very Christmas-y. But remember, it's not Christmas Eve in Russia. It's just December 24th. So no mention was even made of Christmas. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, then stood outside the Korean Church that met in the same building, crying and listening to them sing Christmas carols in Korean. No kidding. I was pitiful. Then--just to make sure I spread the joy--I went home and made my poor sister, Cathy, miserable by sobbing on the phone to her. (Ask her, she will tell you--worst Christmas EVER.) I hadn't had the foresight to pack Christmas cookie cutters, so our Christmas cookies were more blobbish than star-like. As I sat in my Moscow apartment, looking at the snow and ice, I felt completely justified in my misery. Totally and completely justified.

Of course, things took a turn that evening. We celebrated with dear friends, had a lovely time of worship together, and laughed until we cried. By the time we got home, I did feel better. And Christmas the next morning was lovely. It might have just been another day to the workmen constructing the building in front of ours, but in the Hooks Hacienda, it was definitely Christmas. We skyped with family, ate traditional foods (okay, they had to be tweaked a little), opened presents, and just generally made merry. Yes, we missed our family. And yes, we missed all the fun of Christmas in Florida (hot tub, anyone?). But we really had a nice day.

So what does that have to do with three ugly little trees that we've kept all these years? That first year, they were the only decorations we could find and afford. We also had three blue ones, but I have no clue where they are. I actually think Sarah Beth found them at a grocery store in our neighborhood and brought them home. That was also the year that she randomly found a coffee mug with Florida written on the side. (She was always a very good scavenger--finding the stuff I was in too much of a hurry to see.) Why keep them? Well, certainly they remind us of that first year, of how poor we were, or how things really did turn out okay in the end. They have sentimental value, for sure, representing our first Christmas overseas, how far we've come, and how much we've grown. But for me, they mostly are a reminder that Christmas isn't about me. The joy of Christmas has nothing to do with how well-decorated my apartment is, how great my situation is, how beautiful my city is, or how much money I have to buy presents and decorations. There is nothing wrong with enjoying all those things, and I do. But the joy of Christmas is the Good News of Jesus. No matter how much they light up downtown Wien, we still live among a people who have walked and are walking in darkness. And no matter where you are when you are reading this, you live among people who have walked and are walking in darkness. But there is light, friends. And that Light has come that we may have life--abundantly! You know why we ended up having a good Christmas that first year overseas? Because no matter where we are, no matter whether it's Christmas there or not--good news of great joy for all people is this--a child was born in Bethlehem. And He saved us from our sins. He saved me. Joy to the world, indeed.

Well, there are Christmas cards to write, meetings to arrange, and cookies to be baked. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that the good news of Jesus brings you great joy year-round, and that you are setting your DVR to record The Sound of Music tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours! And Merry Christmas!

His,
Kellye