Our family was remembering Christmases from our early years in the Amazon. The girls grew up in marginalized neighborhoods, surrounded by contradictions — hardship around us, joy inside our home. Those memories reminded us again why healthy churches matter: they create pockets of hope in places where hope is thin.
The Orange Tree Christmas
A Family Reflection
Improvising Our Way Into a New Life
October quickly turned to November when we first landed in the Amazon, back in 1993. Canada — with its frosty windows and evergreen trees — felt like another lifetime. Here, the air was hot, thick, green, humming with insects that never slept. Christmas felt a world away.
In December, I went looking for a traditional Christmas tree. There weren’t any. Of course there weren’t — this was the Amazon.
So I improvised.
I cut a branch from the orange tree in our yard. (Orange trees are evergreens, too.) I carried it inside and wrapped a tiny string of lights around it — one of the few decorations we could find. Under it, I placed a couple of Zane Grey novels for Deanna, books I had bought at a used bookstore before leaving Canada. No Netflix. No streaming. Just ink, paper, and story.
That little branch became our first Brazilian Christmas tree.
Forming a Family Culture
That improvisation became a tradition that shaped us for decades. We read stories every night — sometimes out loud, sometimes made up on the spot. Those evenings became the place where we interpreted the world together, where our values were formed, expressed, and practiced.
Years later, the girls told us they realized I had skipped a few pages in those stories — the same way we’d taught them to fast-forward scenes in videos that didn’t fit our values. It was conscious, intentional reflection. It’s a life skill. Discernment. A kind of spiritual muscle that grows stronger with use.
Thick Contentment
One daughter said:
“I look back now and think of those evenings — the five of us crowded close, listening to stories of the American West while the Amazon hummed with a thousand insects with attitudes. We never missed the traditions Mom and Dad left behind. Somehow, in that hot jungle climate, we had everything we needed.”
What she demonstrated was the power of remembering. We didn’t have Christmas the way we expected, so we learned to cherish what we did have. We remembered. We pondered. We slowed down enough to see God in unexpected places.
That little orange branch became one of our first object lessons.
A Citrus Tree in our Yard in Brazil
REFLECTION — The Gift of Peace
There’s a small, quiet moment in the Christmas story that holds more weight than we realize. After the shepherds left, after the angels retreated into the night, Scripture says:
“Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19)
Pondering. Treasuring. Remembering. Meditating.
In a stable. In chaos. With everything unfamiliar.
Mary didn’t have the ideal setting — she had a manger. She didn’t have a home — she had hay. And she had God. And she made space to reflect on what He was doing.
Meditation was Mary’s first act of discipleship.
She slowed down long enough to see the sacred in the makeshift.
That’s exactly what our orange-tree Christmas taught us. Christmas doesn’t require the trappings we think it does. It requires presence — God’s presence with us, and our presence with one another.
Maybe this Christmas, the invitation for all of us is simple:
The symbolic evergreen branch that still holds light.
The people still in the room.
The Story still being written, one scene at a time.
King David Loved to Ponder
“Please Don’t Banish Me From Your Garden”(Psalm 143)
Imagine David.
No screens. No books. Just a handful of scrolls, stories told around a fire, and night after night beneath the stars — long enough to think deeply, long enough for reflection to become a habit carved into one’s identity.
Most of David’s theology was born outdoors. Under constellations. Among sheep. Inside silence.
He had seen God deliver him — lions, bears, giants, and the far more dangerous wounds of two-faced people.
He knew God answered. But he also knew he had blown it. Over and over. He had eaten from the wrong tree — the shortcut tree — the temptation to take wisdom into his own hands.
And so David wonders:
“Have I gone too far? Will God banish me from His garden — from His nearness — from intimacy?”
What does David do?
He meditates. He remembers. He reflects.
He sings his prayer:
“Lord, teach me wisdom — Your wisdom.” “Let me hear Your faithfulness in the morning.” “I remember. I meditate. I ponder. I trust.”
These weren’t religious exercises. They were survival skills. This was David’s way back into the presence of God.
And then he prays the central plea:
“Do not hide Your face from me.”
Or in ancient imagination: “Please don’t banish me from the garden.”
David knows he can’t stand in judgment — “No one living is righteous.” So he throws himself entirely on God’s character:
“For the sake of Your name, revive me.” “Teach me.” “Lead me.” “Save me.”
And finally:
“Remember — I am Your servant.”
Not perfect. Not sinless. But surrendered. Repentant. And held by mercy.
The Hidden Structure of Psalm 143
David places his most urgent cry at the center:
“Don’t banish me from intimacy with You.”
And around it he builds rings of reflection:
I remember.
I meditate.
I ponder.
I trust.
Teach me.
Lead me.
Psalm 143 contains 15 imperatives — seven before and seven after — all orbiting one center:
Fifteen! – I underlined them all in the diagram below.
“Teach me true wisdom, Lord.”
Meditation. Surrender. Reflection. Obedience.
This is how a shepherd became a king. This is how Mary made sense of raising the Savior. This is how a young missionary family found contentment with an orange branch Christmas tree.
And this is how weary souls still find God in the dark. David found the path back and the way to stay in.
David grew up in an oral culture. Memory wasn’t a weakness — it was a superpower. A trained shepherd-poet could memorize hundreds of lines effortlessly.
That’s why psalms have:
parallelism
repetition
rhythmic symmetry
They were designed to be remembered, recited, and sung.
Later, the Holy Spirit inspired skilled scribes to write out the prayers and organize them into the book of Psalms.
Deanna’s Journey to Healing
Lucy helped Deanna start buying airfares again. We’re booked for a Global Missions conference in Texas. We leave at the end of January. Then Deanna will return to Abbotsford for continued treatment, while I carry on to Brazil — a small but enormous step
Deanna is now in the repair and rebuild phase. First you kill the cancer. Then you strengthen the body and build resistance to recurrence.
Last week, I had the joy of officiating at my nephew’s wedding.
Deanna and I were married by a missionary uncle.
My brother and his wife were married by a different missionary uncle.
Now it was my turn to be that missionary uncle.
God’s blessings abound.
Prayer Requests
For Deanna’s complete healing
For the Vineyard Global Missions conference in Texas (February)
For our travels and continued missionary work
For the sale of the Marabá mission property — fair, straightforward, and in God’s timing
Saying goodbye is easy among adults. It’s exponentially harder for the very young and the very old. One comfort: our daughters all formed deep relationships with their grandparents, despite growing up on different continents.
Still, the personal cost of missionary life is soaring.
A Word from Creation
“Going Out in a Slow-Motion Blaze of Glory” Did God know this tree would be this beautiful?
A Prayer for Us Today
Lord,
Teach us wisdom that grows from relationship, not self-reliance.
Teach us to meditate: on You, Your Word, Your creation, and Your call to walk with You.
Let us hear Your faithfulness in the morning. Revive us for the sake of Your name. Lead us by Your good Spirit onto level ground.
And please — don’t let our failures banish us from Your garden.
Keep us near. For we are Your servants.
Amen.
Partnering in the Work
We each play a part in the Great Commission. Some plant churches in marginalized communities. Some help leaders grow and work together. Some sustain the mission through prayer and giving.
When we do our part—whatever it is—it just feels right.
