Bonsai

This morning I paid a visit to the dentist. And while I was in an office just a few steps from the green in downtown Lebanon, I also found myself on the Upper West Side, in the waiting room of Dr. Hiram Angfang, the family dentist. It was never clear to me why we went to Manhattan to have our teeth checked and cleaned, but I didn't mind. Rides on the subway, a trip for pizza after the appointment (my dad always led these expeditions), an excursion down to Times Square in all of its squalid 1970s glory beckoned. Throw in piles of Highlights for Children and colorful fish in the aquarium and one had an always satisfying experience. But if you asked me to recall just one thing about Dr. Angfang's office all these years later, it would be the bonsai tree. Small, delicate, beautiful, and resilient, the little tree held pride of place in the waiting area. For a kid, that Bonsai was magical - trees were supposed to be, well, big. And this one was most definitely not. Yet it was a fine, proud arboreal specimen, one I remember after more than forty years.

This is a season of memories, some happy, some not, some cherished, some resented. We will hold or push away our memories, as individuals and as a community. Some of the things we will recall will serve to divide us from others, others will alienate those who ought to be reconciled. Into this jumble comes the memory of the Christ-child, the one who brings us hope, grace, and joy. Like the Bonsai, the baby was small, delicate, beautiful, and resilient. And the memory of him will be with each of us forty years and beyond, indeed will be with us forever, as long as we're willing to make room for him in our hearts.