An Ornament's Reflection

I was taken by the contrast, against the light and glitter. My mother brought an ornament; one that truly fit her. Years of deep reflection brought a poignant scene to bear, Beyond the joyful birth, she saw her Savior in despair. There were no angels singing there a hallelujah chorus. In fact He was alone, giving all He had there for us. Nothing bright or festive, no joy nor hint of mirth. Just a King in mocking clothes suspended from the earth. She looked me in the eye and told an old, old story Of a baby born in Bethlehem, a baby bound for glory. “Every time I see the tree we put up Christmas day, It reminds me of another tree that took His life away.” “We cannot miss the truth of why the Father sent His son. And we can’t remember Christmas, and forget all He had done.” So every year from that time on, my mother hung a nail. And every year on Christmas morn, I “walk” Golgotha’s trail.