Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Under the Tree

It's only been an hour since she invited me in. "Come under the tree Deborah!"

We have not played with each other since August and she went off to kindergarten. Before that we were almost daily friends from the time she was a baby.

My unspoken hesitations were numerous and well reasoned. I knew they all needed to remain unspoken. This was an invitation born of whimsy, and whimsy was/is the strongest bond between us.

Pulling up the ottoman as close as I could I sat, and then lowered my aging body to the edges of branches that smelled of fresh forest.

The ever favoured monkey pillows were carefully laid underneath. She lay waiting for me. "Come on Deborah, you can do it!"

I lay on my side putting my face fully underneath.

It was , as she had promised, magical. Lights and decorations look more beautiful and iridescent from the underside of the boughs.

"Oh there's the magenta one you told me about , "I exclaimed in genuine awe. It was like looking through the mist of Christmas promise. And there was amber, although she would call it yellow, and blue, and green, and then duplicates of each near her side.

You will be busy the next few weeks. Remember to lay down under the Christmas tree. It will show the reason for the season, the other dimension to which Jesus referred. The bigger picture for which Jesus was born.
Love,
Deborah