The Christmas Tree
Photo by Element5 Digital on Unsplash
Featured in the Dayton Daily News
This holiday season, for the first time, we have an artificial Christmas tree. Please don’t tell my 30-year-old son now living in Chicago. He would express a plethora of reasons why our decision to go “fake” represents a huge problem, even though he hasn’t lived at home for a really long time. I can just hear him now. “Mom, I can’t believe you think an artificial tree is ever ok!” “Mom, it just isn’t Christmas without the whiff of fresh pine and tree needles all over the floor.” And the worst. “Mom, I’m sorry to tell you, but giving up on a real tree means you’re getting old.” Ugh, it’s a good thing he doesn’t know. I think about all those Hallmark moments when we, as a family, decorated “real” Christmas trees. The ornament stories, Bing Crosby serenading “White Christmas,” and the simmering hot chocolate left my heart smiling. Oh… but wait. Did those moments really happen?
Well, they did, but the greater experience is a bit more dimensional. After all, it was a family affair. The storied ornaments were met with at least one of my four who were a bit too stubborn to participate in their hanging. Undoubtedly, the hot chocolate burned somebody’s tongue, and I had one who loathed Bing’s version of “White Christmas.” The tree usually leaned to one side with the Charlie Brown imperfections turned towards the wall. One year we actually watched a lopsided tree topple over in slow motion; ornaments smashing to the ground. Yes, the memories of fresh Christmas trees are etched in my family history.
I’ve been wrestling with those sentiments I know my son will express. Am I selling out? Am I getting old? Do I miss the scent of a winter forest? In sharing my unsettledness with anyone who would listen (even the bank teller), I had a grand realization. It just doesn’t matter. Real, artificial, green, silver, or even pink. All Christmas trees embody the same invitation to restore imagination, share joy, and rest in the wonder and magic offered by the Christmas season.
Christmastime offers challenges. The clutter of tasks threatens to derail even Santa’s polar express. Shopping, cooking and planning are overwhelming. And for some, the complications, losses, and unexpected trials of the year tend to jade our ability to imagine better days. The Christmas tree, however, offers a renewed perspective. We are drawn to the twinkle of lights, opening our eyes to life’s sparkle. You never know when the radiant shimmer can pierce fatigue or indifference. That space under the tree where gold bowed gifts await Christmas morning remind us that the unwrapping of joy is possible even when we have become saddened and laden with heaviness. And being in the mere presence of a decorated Christmas tree transcends the mundane. For at least a few weeks each year, we can rest in the simple glee of garland, ornaments and blinking lights. I can’t wait to call my son, now that I have worked through the conversation of his voice in my head. I’ll tell him not to worry. Enjoying the beauty of The Tree is quite ok. I’m not old, and I have a pine scented candle ready to burn. As I look at the symmetrical white lights and remnants of our old ornaments now hanging on my new tree, I relish in the splendor of the Holiday’s most iconic symbol. I’ll also remind him that regardless of what kind of tree we have, there will be a gift waiting for him just where it should be, resting amidst the magic.