I don’t think that anyone will disagree with me when I say that the candlelight service of carols and readings was a high point in our Christmas worship. The lights sparkled across the ceiling supports and on the Christmas tree. The newly made illuminated stable and nativity scene took centre stage on the front platform and the candles flickered on the tables decorated centrally in the sanctuary, surrounded by fifty worshippers who raised their voices in glory to God. Just beautiful!

Positioning myself in one corner behind the pulpit I had time to reflect as due to aging, shortage of breath stops me from singing as loud and strong as I use to do when leading worship. Two large candles alongside me led my eyes to the advent candles and my reflection took me back through the years to other similar services. I saw not only faces from past years at Park Congregational Church but faces of the people of Pomfret, McCook and Bound Brook Congregational Church in America where I had the privilege to minister. Inevitably I felt grateful to God and found myself thanking Him for something or someone that He had provided in the yesterday of my life that made my today much more meaningful.

I would like to tell you about a short film "The Giving Tree,” about a tree who loved a boy, which will to illustrate my reflections.

They played hide 'n' seek in his younger years. The boy swung from her branches, climbed all over her, ate her apples, slept in her shade. Such happy, carefree days. The tree loved those years of the boy's childhood.

But the boy grew and spent less time with the tree. On one occasion the young man returned. "Come on, let's play," invited the tree . . . but the lad was only interested in money. "Take my apples and sell them," said the tree. He did . . . and the tree was happy.

He didn't return for a long time, but the tree smiled when he passed by one day. "Come, play, friend. Come, play!" But the boy---now full grown---wanted to build a house for himself. "Cut off my branches and build your house," she offered. He did, and once again the tree was happy.

Years dragged by. The tree missed the boy. Suddenly, she saw him in the distance. "Come on, let's play!" but the man was older and tired of his world. He wanted to get away from it all. "Cut me down. Take my large trunk and make yourself a boat. Then you can sail away," said the tree. And that's exactly what he did . . . and the tree was happy.

Many seasons passed---summers and winters, windy days and lonely nights---and the tree waited. Finally, the old man returned . . . too old, too tired to play, to pursue riches, to build houses, or to sail the seas. "I have a pretty good stump left, my friend. Why don't you just sit down here and rest?" He did . . . and the tree was happy.

How many Giving Trees have there been in my life? How many have released part of themselves so I might grow, accomplish my goals, find wholeness and satisfaction, and reach beyond the tiny, limited playground of my childhood? So, so many. Their names could fill this page.

Such was my reflection. I hoped, as the last carol was sung, that I sometimes had been a “Giving Tree”. As my three score years and ten approach quicker than I’d like, I might only be “a stump” but I can still give a warm smile, a word of comfort or a shoulder to lean on.
Myrtle and I would wish you all a continued blessed walk with the Lord this coming year. Happy New Year.