Oh, Christmas Tree!

The week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve can be a time of relief, rest, reflection or even emotional letdown. I never really know how I am going to feel during this time, but regardless, I always take a moment after the Christmas rush to indulge in a slow morning or an entire lazy day just to sit in front of our beautiful tree.

We have always had real Christmas trees which we decorate very traditionally. Each ornament tells a story: a baby in a manger, our own babies’ first Christmases, grandchildren’s foot or handprints, trips we have taken, hobbies we have enjoyed, and animals we have loved. This year, as I reminisce, I look beyond the ornaments, and I think about the stories our past Christmas trees might tell.

Like the year when my cousin was tragically taken from earth in early December. Our hearts were broken, but I encouraged my mom to get a tree. I promised to decorate it myself since no one was in the Christmas Spirit. It was late in the season, and we had only a few trees to choose from, so we brought home a scratchy pine. I remember wearing garden gloves to protect my hands! During that sad Christmas, that little tree brought a little light to our darkness and the reminder of the hope that Jesus brings.

One of my favorite memories is going out with my dad to a local store to get our tree. While we were there, we overheard a little boy asking his mom if they could get one. She said they didn’t have the money. I was so sad to think of a house without a Christmas tree. As my dad was paying for our tree, I overheard him tell the cashier in a very hushed voice that he would like to pay for a tree for the lady and her son. My heart was so proud of my dad and so full of joy that that little boy would get to experience the magic of Christmas.

Every year it seems like the tree is the prettiest one ever! I remember many family Christmas tree quests with my husband and boys…the boys’ excitement and anticipation of the beautiful tree where wrapped presents would collect. And then, after a few years, I had the realization that my passion for finding the perfect tree was not a shared passion for the others, so I began to go by myself and spare everyone the selection process.  I would go out and return with the perfect tree and find the boys ready and excited. This was the routine for a few years, until they became more excited about the decorated tree than about decorating the tree! When we entered that phase of life, I decided to join others in my church community who ordered fresh cut trees from North Carolina through a fundraising project. We never knew whether the tree would be fat or tall, but it was always beautiful and delivered right to our house. One year, ours rivaled the Griswold’s…we were grateful for vaulted ceilings!

So many years, so many trees, so many memories! I remember the year my husband was deployed and my oldest son, a young teenager, had to saw off the bottom and fit the trunk into our stand. I was so proud of him!  One year our little dog got the nickname “Tipper” because he walked under the tree in the middle of the night and knocked it over. And, good grief, back in the days when one bad light could take out an entire strand! Too many of those memories!

But perhaps my favorite and most humbling story is the year of the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. We were young marrieds living on the air base in North Dakota with our one baby boy and our beagle. I was co-hosting the officers’ wives tour of homes and because we couldn’t get enough people to commit, my co-host and I had to put our homes on display…the intention was to tour the grand homes of the senior officer’s wives…not our little quarters. It had to be perfect to even be worth the stop on the tour.

So, off I went with my husband to a nursery to find the perfect tree. This particular nursey strung trees from the top of a covered area which was a great way to see all the way around a tree, to view any bare spots, to see how it would “fall” and to provide some shelter from the brutal cold.  Unfortunately, it was not a great way to judge the overall size and height…and I was sorely disappointed to find how small our “perfect” little tree looked in our big picture window. To make matters worse, the year prior, we had a huge, beautiful balsam in that same space, which skewed my expectations.

To say I lost my mind is an understatement. I threw a full-on fit that to this day is embarrassing to admit. I went on…and on…and on until…my husband had had enough. Without a word, he calmly but purposefully walked over to that tree, grabbed it decisively by the trunk, opened the back door (next to the window) and chucked it out into the snow saying, “let’s just go get another one!” Well, that was a moment of shock and awe! That action slapped me back to reality. What in the world was I thinking? I apologized and convinced him to bring the tree back in. Fortunately, we had several feet of snow already, so the tree was completely unharmed.

We strung the lights, adorned it with our small, but growing collection of meaningful ornaments, and, in a Charlie Brown moment, realized all it needed was a little love: the love of our memories, the love for our families, for each other, and for the baby Jesus, our Lord and Savior. It really was a lovely tree and a beautiful Christmas. I hardly remember the tour of homes, but I remember our little family and the joy of the season. And I vividly remember the day we took the ornaments and lights off. Right before our eyes, it shrunk! This was a life lesson that I sometimes have to “re-remember” amongst all that has to be done during the holidays…the meaning of Christmas is wrapped up in the ultimate love our Heavenly Father had for us, not in the endless to-do lists.

I still search for the perfect tree that will hold our memories. The lovely evergreen symbolic of the birth of Christ, the death on a wooden cross, the life everlasting. As I sit here on this dreary, rainy, Pacific Northwest day, I think to myself, “that is the prettiest one yet!”

Until next time, I am living Between the Scans.