"Why are you putting it on the tree? It makes me sad," Zay said, his small face covered with a shadow of concern.
He peered up into the deep, green branches of our Christmas tree. Among the soft white lights and gem-hue baubles I'd placed a crown of thorns. Twisted. Sharp.
"It's about Jesus," Samuel said, before I could whisper a word. "What he did for us. What he came for."
It traveled to our house, between booster seats and boys, in a basket.
But Zay was unsure about hanging it on the tree. It didn't seem to fit with cranberry garland and glittery snowmen and men in caps round and merry.
The harsh, spiky thorns didn't mix with holiday cheer.
I pulled Isaiah to my lap. We talked about the Babe. The manger. The angels and the shepherds and the stable and the star. But we talked about the rest, too.
And Zay curled deep, head against my chest. Samuel folded in, too.
"You see, Zay," Sam said. "It is sad. But mostly it's happy. We'd be lost. Without him. He did it for us."
Well said, sweet Samuel.
The Babe, the manger, the thorns, the cross,
Our salvation. Redemption. Hope.
Joy to the world...the Lord has come.