“A voice proclaims: In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!” (Isaiah 40:3).

Advent is a time of preparation for the coming of our Lord. Heavy-hitters from our Advent reading cycle—Mark, Isaiah, Peter, and Paul—give clear directives to sober up and take seriously the preparation process (Mark 13:33-37, Isaiah 40:3, 2 Peter 3:8-14, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24). While these Advent exhortations are stern, they also provide assurance of why, in the end, everything will be worth it.

As the exhortation in sports goes, when approaching the final repetitions in training, “last one best one!” Why not approach this Advent session the way the founders of our faith suggest—fired up and in the zone?

Trimly Tree

One’s home, heart, and vineyard (i.e., the place that God has given you and assigned you to work) are the concrete locations to which the Advent exhortations are aimed. As I reflected this year on the spiritual, emotional, and physical necessities of preparing oneself in Advent, I was reminded of an Advent from some years back. It was a year when the tree was “trimmed” in a way that I never expected but, in the end, appreciated.

My husband and I usually have a dialogue about how big a tree will “fit” in our living room. Inevitably, I am in favor of the larger trees on the lot and he of the smaller. My husband insists we do not have enough clearance—and provides commentary on the rising costs of trees and memories of the days when we bought our tree at Home Depot for $25 (true story!). I then reference what seems like a valid memory—that we surely had the nine-foot tree last year. It is a fun and joyful banter.

This particular year, my husband and I browsed the lot, popping open zip-tied trees for half an hour before we settled on a seven-foot tree that I was satisfied with. I left the area with the chain saws to seek out the Christmas carols, cocoa with marshmallows, and smells of fresh pine while my husband finished up the trimming and rebinding of the tree.

We threw it in the back of the truck and reopened it in our living room. Much to my surprise, what seemed like a third of the tree had been “trimmed” from the bottom.

“What happened?” I asked. “The tree was perfect the way that it was.”

Then, I noticed other areas of the tree had been “trimmed” to thin it out—all the levels, not just the base. As I reflected on the fact that I could see the trunk throughout the entire tree, my husband announced we would need to chop the top of large branches, which were hitting the ceiling, in order for the angel to fit.

Good Grief

Our now-six-foot tree was looking more and more to me like Charlie Brown’s sad Christmas tree than the majestic noble fir I’d originally envisioned. Besides the change in appearance, there was the practical matter of the decorations—many of which were heirlooms from my deceased grandmother’s collection—which would no longer fit, as a third of the tree’s branches were removed.

It was a definitive moment; I had the choice of trimming things down and being joyful or staying the course I found myself on—which would be the Polar Express heading straight toward disappointment, stress, and letdown.

I chose the former. I realized that it was a good opportunity to select the ornaments that I treasured most and let the others go. Ornaments had accumulated over 25 years of family life, driving the need for bigger and bigger trees to fit them all. I was unnecessarily creating a tree that could host every good memory I had with my grandmother, whom I loved dearly, and the rest of my family. I could (and should) carry those memories in my heart. I had to make space there, not on the tree.

Trimly Me

In acknowledging the value of family in the present and making space in our traditions to cherish our memories of the past, I was able to experience a deeply memorable Advent and trimming of the tree. I was thankful to the Lord for the richness of my life and for His nearness.

The other stuff (my White House-proportioned Christmas tree and what happened to it) would have been a distraction from what God wanted for me in those moments: the knowledge that He was there as our Lord and Savior and that He was deeply invested in our life and well-being.

I did not expect to have a little trimming of myself, but in the end, I was grateful for it, as it reminded me of how things can grow quietly and naturally over the course of time but, without some pruning, can block other, more important things.

Practical Strategies for Trimming

Here are some practical steps to trim away the unnecessary branches from your “tree” so as to make room for what matters most this Advent and Christmas season.

First, write down one thing that is occupying unnecessary space in three areas of your life—heart, home, and place of work—and one way to trim it.

• Heart: This could be a resentment or bitterness toward someone. To trim, you could write a letter acknowledging what is good about that person and say a prayer for them.

• Home: This could be hours spent preoccupied with activities that are taking time away from family or making it difficult to slow down and pray. You could trim by committing to and securing the space to accomplish the quality time necessary to pray and spend time with family.

• Workplace: It could be that fear is driving overfocus on year-end goals, deadlines, practical matters, and responsibilities. You could trim by writing down the most important priorities to focus on this Advent and spending your time on them.

Second, give yourself the gift of a spiritual book to accompany you on your Advent journey so that as you do the first exercise you do not lose sight of what belongs at the center: Jesus. I recommend a good friend’s new book: Mary and the Interior Life, by Father Jeremiah Shryock.

Making an effort to trim this Advent and Christmas season will be worth the reward. As St. John of the Cross put it so eloquently:

The soul that is attached to anything however much good there may be in it, will not arrive at the liberty of divine union. For whether it be a strong wire rope or a slender and delicate thread that holds the bird, it matters not, if it really holds it fast; for, until the cord be broken the bird cannot fly.

Dr. Lisa Petronis is a licensed clinical psychologist, licensed marriage and family therapist, and certified master Catholic life coach. In addition to her private practice Dr. Lisa founded Halleluya Living to help athletes, professionals and religious leaders to accomplish highest goals for the Lord. Dr. Lisa finds deep joy to serve God by serving up dinner every night for her family and serving the anawim in S. Sudan, Kingston Jamaica, juvenile detention facilities and through a local sports ministry with her husband and sons. Learn more at DrLisaPetronis.com, Halleluyaliving.com and Dreamtobemore.org.