It’s my husband’s birthday today, and I have a little secret to share with you — the house is already decorated for Christmas! You see, there’s kind of an unwritten rule around here that holiday decor shouldn’t come out until after John’s birthday. But this year he happens to be deployed on a warship on the other side of the world, so the kids and I got a jump-start on decking the halls while my oldest daughter was home from university on her reading week break last week.
It felt like we were doing something “illegal,” but I’m sure even the birthday boy would understand our enthusiasm. In fact, with his boat due back on December 20th, he’s just as eager for Christmas to come as we are!
The one thing I was going to wait on was the tree. My plan was to pick one up after he returned. We usually get a real one, and I didn’t want the hassle of transporting and setting up the sticky, prickly thing by myself. But then, on second thought, I also didn’t want the hassle of searching through whatever slim pickings would be left by then. I’m sure all we’ll want to do at that point is sit back and relax together. So I bought the cheapest artificial tree I could find at Canadian Tire the other day ($49.99 for a six foot, unlit tree didn’t seem like a bad deal). And it was a cinch to set up too. I’m missing the woodsy fragrance of a real tree, but I’m not missing the spider webs or the fear that it could topple in the night.
My ten-year-old son doesn’t remember the artificial tree we had years ago. He’s only known real ones. So when we unboxed this one, he looked at me with visible disappointment and said, “Am I getting bigger, or are the trees getting smaller?” It’s probably a bit of both. This one is a tad on the scrawny side. But I was impressed with how many ornaments it held.
Once we got it all decorated, I stood back and admired our “homemade” tree, with its finger-knit garland and other handmade ornaments. Year after year, we unbox ornaments made by me as a child, by my husband as a child, and by our children. Year after year, I tell myself, “Someday you’ll have a ‘designer’ tree…something thematic or colour-coordinated at least.”
But, this year was different. As I unwrapped our homemade ornaments, I saw them in a new light. The tissue paper wreath framing my now eighteen-year-old daughter’s eight-year-old face. Fuzzy sheep made of cotton balls glued on to my preschooler’s faded paper handprint. A spray-painted bell made with macaroni, that my husband’s four-year-old fingers glued in place. Over the years, we have transformed pipe cleaners, cinnamon sticks, buttons, beads, even old lightbulbs into Christmas ornaments.
We also collect them in our travels. There’s the Parthenon replica from Athens, the olive wood holy family from Bethlehem, the cross with Scripture in Chinese characters from Singapore’s Chinatown, the Mickey ears photo frame that holds a family photo from Disney World, the cowbell from Switzerland, the keychain from Poland, the carved otter from Alaska.
On second thought, I don’t want a designer tree. This eclectic collection of ours is growing more precious to me with each passing year. Instead of packing these quirky ornaments away for good when my children are grown and gone, I think I’ll be more eager than ever to handle and hang them each year.
I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize this. Perhaps I’m seeing it more clearly now because this year is so different from all the others. With my oldest daughter away at university and my husband thousands of miles from home, I’m getting a tiny taste of the changes sure to come, as our nest continues to empty.
Someday I’ll be glad to feather our empty nest with these tangible memories of God’s faithfulness to our family. And it won’t matter whether they sit on a tree fresh from the forest or an artificial one I pick up on clearance. That will only be the backdrop for the real display — a display that has been many years and many miles in the making.
No, it won’t be designer. But it will be dear to me. And I’ll take endearing over designer any day.
The life of mortals is like grass, they flourish like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more. But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children. (Psalm 103:15-17, NIV)
Leave a Reply