Every year when Christmas is over, I put the decorations in red or green tubs, label the tubs, then put them in their special places in the attic and in the boat barn.  After the last tub is stored, the mischief begins. 

People tell me this is not possible, but I know it happens.  Sometime over the next eleven months, the tubs open, and the contents gleefully change places.  Ornaments migrate to the light tub, garland that was neatly wound dances itself into a tangle, and light strands that worked perfectly when put away decide to die.  The tubs themselves get in the act.  They mingle with the kid’s memory tubs and hide behind the air handler unit.  Big red bags holding artificial Christmas trees bury themselves in the attic insulation, never to be seen again.   

The outdoor decorations are stored in the attic of the boat barn.  The boat barn attic is the perfect size for people under five feet tall.  I try to place the Christmas décor in a place where I do not have to stand up and walk.  Over their hibernation time, the big tubs will move to the furthest spot in the attic.  I do not know how they do this because I check on them throughout the year, and they seem to be right where I left them.  It is only when I go to get them that I discover their relocation.  I am forced to move like the hunchback of Notre Dame across the rafters and then drag the tubs to the pull-down stairs. 

Like many of you, after Thanksgiving, I began the great Christmas decoration hunt.  When I pull the tubs and boxes down, the mischief of the tubs is revealed.  The lights on the middle sections of the artificial trees don’t work.  We can’t find the box with the artificial garland.  The Christmas tree stand is missing two screws.   

I can’t find the box with the outside lights.  This means I have to go back up into the built-for-short-people-boat-barn-attic to look for that tub.  I find it cowering behind an old rocking chair.  When I open it, a jumble of extension cords that had been neatly coiled are tangled in a joyous riot.  Half the lights I used last year don’t work.  This necessitates trips to several stores to find lights that match the ones we already have (why can’t someone invent an LED light that matches the old-fashioned soft lights we have?).   

Half of our light-up wreaths don’t work.  Buy new wreaths?  They are over $60 a piece and don’t match the three that do work.  Solution?  Back to the store to buy more lights, wrap the non-functioning wreaths with these strands, and find out they still don’t match.  Go back to the store to buy more lights and wrap the perfectly good wreaths with new lights.   

Inside the house, a similar story unfolds.  We have a very special Hummel nativity set, given to me by my favorite aunt.  One year, we could not find it.  We looked everywhere.  Finally, we gave up.  I’m sure no one else noticed, but to me, it felt a little less like Christmas without that special nativity set.  I found it when we were putting the decorations away.  The tub was sitting in the middle of the attic walkway, plainly labeled “Christmas Hummels.”  Don’t tell me those tubs can’t move at will. 

One year my wife said, “Where is the box with the special ornaments?”  I told her I had gotten all the boxes down.  We looked in the attic, and not a Christmas box was to be found.  Christmas was approaching, so we went out and bought some more special ornaments and grieved the loss of some ornaments that held special memories.  The new ornaments were put on the tree, and the next day we found the special ornament tub.  It furtively made its way under a bed in the upstairs bedroom.  When we opened it, I thought I heard a faint giggle. 

Every year is like this.  Sometimes we throw decorations away or give them away.  When we open the tubs the next year, like “The Brave Little Toaster,” these decorations have made their way back, hoping to still be used for Christmas.  How do they find their way back? 

When I think about God, I marvel that he never misplaces anything.  He never forgets where any of his children are.  There are no mislabeled people for God; he knows every person, and he loves them all.  Even when people get tangled up or don’t work quite right, God patiently untangles the mess people make.  When we hide from him, he seeks us out.  Never, not once, has God ever said about you or me, “Where did I put him?”  Our Heavenly Father always remembers you.