This year my daughter decorated our house for Christmas. She painstakingly moved pictures and knick-knacks around to make room for decorations. As is our custom, she took items off the shelves and piano to be boxed away to make room for the seasonal ornaments.

In the process of rearranging, she left a pile of picture frames and photos underneath the tree. Along with these frames, rested a bookrack and our large family Bible. The bookrack was a gift from my friend Clara. Her mother passed away twenty years ago and the rack had belonged to her. Clara wanted me to have this keepsake and it has held an honored place in our living room for many years.

My aunt, mother’s older sister, gave the large Bible to us. We have family records written in the front but because the book is so large, we do not use it for study. So, while the household was being reorganized for Christmas, the large Bible was underneath the tree.

I envision a family Bible, opened to the Christmas story, resting upon an heirloom stand underneath each and every Christmas tree. It’s a nice little dream. If every household in my city that observes Christmas would read the story behind it, how enriched their lives would be.

If every household in my state that observes Christmas would only take time to talk about the story in the book beneath the tree, oh how blessed their hearts could be.

If every household in my nation that observes Christmas could take time to reflect upon the words in the book, how changed our nation could be.

If every household throughout the world that observes Christmas remembered the life story portrayed in the book that rests underneath the branches of their tree; how grateful this world would be!

You see, the baby with the name Jesus, a common name for boys of his time, born in a stable, with stinky animals and smelly hay, was the most uncommon life story that any of us will ever hear, read or tell about.

When friends desert you, family lets you down or life rips you apart, there is one name that is already exalted above all names.

You don’t have to chant, clear your mind, or burn incense to get in the spirit. You don’t have to wait till a certain time of the day to pray. His ears are always open, he’s sitting at the right of his father, and interceding for us until the day we are together.

He was an uncommon baby, born in common times, a youth that knew devotion to the holy God. He was a sinless man among wicked people, and in death transcended to the heavens before the believing eyes of men who wrote their accounts in one accord.

If only every household throughout my city, state, nation, and even the world would rest an open Bible beneath their trees, we’d soon understand that while the world is in turmoil, we hold the hand of the Prince of Peace. Soon, the households without the Christmas trees would hear and know that the season we hold dear is not about trees, wrapping paper or spending money. It’s about spending time with Him because he first spent time with us.

© 2001 LaRose Karr rosiebay@kci.net