Oh, Christmas Tree!

When I was growing up, one of my favorite Christmas Golden Book stories was the one that told the story of the littlest Christmas tree.  In the story, the tiny tree was always the shortest one in the woods.  It watched with envy as its taller, rounder, more perfect companions were selected, sawed, and carried out of the field to adorn homes with every passing Christmas season.  Eventually, this forlorn member of the fir family was chosen by a small child who didn’t care that every bough on the little tree was perfect or that its branches wouldn’t come close to touching a twelve foot ceiling.  Happily, the little tree lit up the family’s living room, adorned with lights, tinsel, and ornaments to help make this small child’s Christmas a memorable one.

For my family, our Christmas tree story for the past two decades has had a similar theme.  Because my work in the legislature found me burning the midnight oil at the Capitol during the month of December during my tenure in the House of Representatives, it was always a mad rush to get ready for Christmas at my house.  My daughter, Emilie, would patiently wait as the days on her Advent Calendar were marked off with few signs beyond that calendar marking the approaching holiday.  It became routine that we would jump in the truck and drive off to buy any tree left on a sale lot as the countdown to Christmas approached.

Amazingly we were always successful in finding a tree.  I convinced Emilie that this was all part of my plan to wait until the last minute to find our special tree.  I told her that we were the lucky people who could give an unwanted pine tree a place of honor.  It would get the same chance as the "littlest Christmas tree" to wear lights, tinsel, and handmade ornaments.  It eventually became tradition to welcome an unchosen tree into our "hectic schedule" home each year.

This year was no exception.  My new job as the Agricultural Coordinator for Berks County kept me hustling right up until Christmas Eve.  Not a single decoration had been hung.  No Christmas tree blinked its warm welcome in our farmhouse, or even waited on the porch as the clock ticked toward Christmas day at a steady pace.  As I left my office late in the afternoon, I worried that this might be the first year our home was missing a key holiday ingredient --- a pine tree to bring its beautiful aroma inside and to help cheer us during this special season.

I drove home a different direction, hoping to find a local landscape business open with a waiting Christmas tree for me to load into my car’s trunk.  If I found a tree, I was bound and determined to squeeze it into that small space and haul it home.  Alas, the lights were out and the owner had gone home to celebrate Christmas with his family.

I drove further down the road and was happy to see a grassy lot that had been transformed into a Christmas tree “sales room.”  I pulled in and looked for signs of life.  The mechanical tree wrapper was silent, and no sales person was in sight.  I walked to the next-door business and inquired inside if the owner knew who was selling the trees on the adjacent lot.  “That would be me,” he said, as he made my day.

I walked through the few remaining trees, remembering the childhood story of the littlest Christmas tree with every step.  I finally selected the shortest, roundest specimen and we shoved it into the trunk of my car.  Paying the man and wishing him a “Merry Christmas,” I headed toward home, happy that I was able to once again bring the traditional last-minute joy into our lives.

As I turned into our farm lane, I saw my daughter’s truck parked close to our farm house’s front porch.  My mind leapt to the most likely scenario that would have prompted her to leave the truck sitting there.  As I backed my car into its normal parking space, I was no longer happy.  I had raced around frantically to find a Christmas tree, only to come home to find my daughter’s smiling face as she announced that she and her dad had wanted to surprise me by bringing home a tree and getting it ready for Christmas day.

My mood turned sour instead of sweet.  I tossed the tree out of my trunk near the pile of broken branches from last week’s ice storm.

After a moment, I realized how far from the spirit of Christmas I had fallen just because we now had two trees to help us celebrate the season.  As Emilie encouraged me to come into the living room to view the shining tree she and Mike had decorated, she told me how they had gone all over looking for a tree, even to the neighboring county, with no luck.

Eventually, she explained, they wound up at a grassy lot next to a business where a few trees were waiting for homes.  It turned out to be the same place where I had stopped a short time later on my way back to the farm.  The tree I had selected was the one that my husband Mike had wanted, but relented and brought home one that Emilie preferred that wasn’t quite as stout and that stood a bit taller.

The tree I brought home took up residence on our front porch.  I used antique barbed wire, old porcelain insulators, and decorated Mason jar lids to spruce up its branches.  Since it would be an outdoor tree where our racing Border Collies would speed past it, its decorations had to be indestructible.  This Christmas tree would wear real pieces of our farm life with no blinking lights to break the darkness of the night.  Its light was the understanding it brought to me in appreciating the true meaning of Christmas.

What started off as an unwelcome surprise has become a special part of our 2007 Christmas memories.  My daughter and husband blessed me with their love and understanding as they tried to make my life less stressful.  I appreciate their gesture of kindness more as the irony of our double Christmas tree story settles deeper into my heart. Even though I didn’t take the time to realize it at first, the true meaning of their love finally melted through life’s worries, cares and its hectic schedules.  Love is what Christmas is about.  And, it all started with the gift of God's son.  May love decorate your Christmas tree forever.

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