I have done the thing I said I would not do. I bought a fake Christmas tree. When I was Little Judy Ann, we had a real cedar on the front porch - cut down on my uncle's valley land - and a silver tinsel tree inside - complete with one of those lights that rotated and made the tree alternately red, blue, green and yellow. Because 1960's. And because Mama didn't want the mess. Side note: I've had that same haircut most of my life - without the bangs. Should I try bangs again? Nah. Anyway, since I grew up, I have always insisted we have a real Christmas tree in our house. Until now. I have been adamant. I have been sentimental. I have been impractical. But early this past Saturday morning, I drove over to the Hobby Lobby and bought option "C", an artificial, pre-lit 7 1/2' tall tree. For half-price. A kind young worker, guy named Zoe (silent e), wrestled it into the backseat of Ellie Mae the Elantra. I have had to drive around with it back there for two days until hubby gets home to wrestle it into the house. I'm going set it straight up in the den and plug in the lights - never mind the in-progress renovations. Something I couldn't do with a real one... this might not be so bad after all. And I'm going to start burning the Yankee Candle - Mistletoe flavor - to make it smell real-er. (Trick I learned from my sweet friend who moved to Texas and became a rancher.)
This real tree obsession congealed the year we moved to Virginia. It was our firstborn's first Christmas and we had some friends of friends who owned a Christmas tree farm. It was a bonafide, lucrative business. They cut and sold trees down the mountain. But they also let people wander through the rows to pick out and cut down their own. They provided the saw and everything. It had snowed right around Thanksgiving and the temperature stayed low enough to keep it on the ground for weeks. So, we tromped through the snow, found the perfect tree, cut it down, dragged it out of the field and tied it to the top of our little car. It was picturesque. Think Hallmark movie. That is, until we got up a little speed and it flew off the car and landed in the ditch. We had tied it on with the top forward so the wind caught in the branches and blew it right off. Side note: always load the tree with the trunk towards the front - it's more aerodynamic that way. We loaded it back up the right way and headed over the river and through the woods. This is still one of my most precious Christmas memories - tree in the ditch and all.
In the ensuing years, I always insisted on cutting our trees. One boy became two boys and off the four of us we went in late November to a tree farm. The year we moved to the beach I was excited to locate a farm nearby. Side note: The farther away from the mountains the harder it is to find a tree farm. It was the first year they were open for business and we were their very first customers. We loaded the tree inside the SUV this time, the boys sat among the branches and we sang Christmas carols. More sweet memories. We went back for the next few Christmases and they always remembered us. And then there was the year that the hurricanes came through and destroyed most of their trees. When we showed up there were not many left and they decided to sell what they could and then close down for good. We wound up getting a Charlie Brown tree that year... it was about four feet tall and it came from the edge of the farmer's yard. He insisted. It was the best he had to offer. We found a lady bug in that tree. Some say that is a good luck sign. Maybe for us... not so much for the tree farmer.
I doggedly searched around and found another farm close by and the tradition continued for a few more years. We kinda lost steam after that. The boys got older. They tossed around a football while I found a tree and the tree-farm-worker-guy cut it with a chainsaw. It wasn't the same anymore. There were fewer carols and more complaints - from all of us. I settled for a trip to the grocery store or church-youth-fundraiser tree lot. The four of us became the two of us and thirty-something years later, here I am cramming a half-price-Hobby-Lobby-tree into the backseat - making memories with a really nice stranger named Zoe (silent e).
If we’re lucky, we get a few of those snow-covered Virginia mountainside days in our lifetime. Maybe some Charlie Brown trees, carols and ladybugs thrown in for good measure. But, if we’re smart, we appreciate the Saturday mornings at the Hobby Lobby, too. Because that means we’re still here and trying. Sitting with the tension between clinging and letting go. The heart is a resilient thing – embracing memories and opening to new things all at once. Season by season. This is what it means to be alive. The tree may be artificial but the feelings... not so much. Selah.
See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland. Isaiah 43:19
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