Friday, March 23, 2018

2014 Christmas Contest: The Original Christmas Tree

December 29, 2014 by  
Filed under 2014 Christmas, Contests

by Anthony Wobbe

My Bio is extremely boring.  Father of six, lovely wife, terrible job for which I am thankful.  Writing is somewhere between a pastime and passion for me.  A few published credits and a few dollars from a contest or two.  I sincerely hope you enjoy what I’ve submitted.  And while it doesn’t deal with  the Christ child specifically, it deals directly with the reason for his birth.  Merry Christmas.

The Original Christmas Tree

My Guardian Angel woke me with a soft kiss on my cheek.  He’s not done that since I was nine.  As I looked about rubbing my eyes, I realized I was nine again… although still in my current house, with my wife and children sleeping.  My mind was immediately busied by the things a father’s mind is busied by and I was sitting in the haze between the physical and spiritual realms.

“I want you to see the original Christmas tree” he whispered.  “Quickly, stand up and come with me.”

He grabbed my hand as he’d done so many times when I was a child and quietly guided me through the halls of my house.  Soon the walls melted away to an ancient dimension of dread and our journey stopped in a corridor of desolate waste land at the foot of a dune on which stood a single tree.  My angel knelt before it, motioning me to look.

The tree was barren and twisted in a grotesque contortion of despair and pain.  There were no fir shoots of green or pine needles, it didn’t smell of sap and the only decorations upon it were splashes of what appeared to be red paint still oozing and dripping, and a large bright light that hung between its only two limbs.

“This isn’t a Christmas tree” I whispered.  “The sadness from it is overwhelming and it only has one light, which isn’t even a Christmas light.  Where’s the Garland and tinsel?  Where are the Christmas bobbles and strings of popcorn?  There are no traditional ornaments or Christmas tree smell; and Christmas trees always have gift’s under them…where are the gifts?”

“The gift was never under the original Christmas tree” My angel whispered.  “The gift was…and still is-on the tree itself, but only for those who can see…those who will see.”

With his words the single light started to slowly twist and groan, as though looking for a position that would offer the slightest relief…it found none.

“What is this tree” I asked?  “Why did you bring me here?”

“This is the tree of Salvation” he said, his own eyes affixed to the single light.  “Nailed to it and bleeding to death hangs the anointed son of God, Jesus Christ, who is the light of world; all his flesh is torn and he is being slaughtered for the sins of mankind, so that all might be saved.

As stood in silence, staring at the sadness of this quiet horror, the ooze of his blood, shed on the tree specifically because of me started to shimmer and his light began to dim, and for a brief moments I was able to see the annihilated form of the Son of God.

Slowly he raised his head until our gazes locked.  He forced a weak, painful smile set against kind eyes and cracked lips…and with the last of His strength softly breathed “Merry Christmas Anthony.”



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