Our daughter helped me take down our Christmas tree yesterday. On January 13.
We like to leave our tree up until Old Christmas/Epiphany/January 6/My Birthday. This year, that was a Tuesday, and then I was hopping around on a whole bunch of amazing, sweet birthday outings my husband had planned for me.
So we decided to enjoy the birthday celebrating, and let our tree hang out with us until we could get to it.
It was a big, happy tree, and it took up about a quarter of the space in our little front room.
When we brought it home, I declared it my favorite one yet. For days after we first put it up, we would greet it in the morning and say goodnight to it in the evening. For weeks, we'd find favorite, low-hanging ornaments all over the house, as our kiddo and her friends would pull off them off and make up all kinds of games with them.
But eventually, our happy tree started to fade into the walls a bit. To become an expected part of the architecture around us. Even though it took up a quarter of the room and was clearly visible from the table where we eat our meals, we kind of stopped seeing it.
Once we took our tree down, our space opened up again. It looked a bit empty, but it was a welcome kind of empty. An empty that offers new possibilities.
And that has me looking around our house with fresh eyes.
What other things have we stopped seeing?
What else are we just accepting as part of the landscape?
Where else can we be intentional about letting go of things that served us well and happily in a past season in our lives--to make space for what's happening right here and now?