O Christmas Tree

I confess. I love Christmas decorations. I grouse about dragging them out, the mess of putting them up, the trouble of cleaning around them, the space they take up, the torture of taking them down and packing them up, but the truth is I love it when the house is decorated. The best part is when you get a few quiet minutes, turn on the tree lights, crank up the Christmas music and just sit and enjoy it.

Don't get me wrong. My house isn't ready for a center spread in Better Homes and Gardens. In fact a lot of it is the same artificial garland in the same place, year after year. What makes it all special are the memories attached to each and every decoration. Some people decorate by theme with new decorations bought every year and everything color coded. Not me, I decorate by the things that mean the most to me, regardless of what they look like. That means using the nativity scene made by a former homemaker when I was the County Extension Agent, the garland my daughter and I found on one of our "girl" trips to Gatlinburg, TN, when she was in college, the laughing snowman that was given to my daughter after her wreck to cheer her up (no one can listen to the maniacal laughter and not join in!), and the various candle holders and gifts given to me by friends.

However, my pride and joy is my tree. Each and every ornament has a story and a memory. This year the "little boys" (my son's 3 and 5 year old) wanted to help me decorate. Now, I'm a traditionalist, but not a dummy. All the delicate glass ornaments have been packed up until a later date, but I still have lots of reasonably sturdy ornaments to fill the tree. With shouts of glee they attacked the boxes of ornaments. As each one was pulled out they placed it carefully on the tree. Their idea of balance is a little different. Each ball (their favorites and plastic) were grouped by color and placed on one branch. So now I have clusters of balls hanging like grapes about 2 feet off the floor.

Then we got to the fun ornaments. I have school ornaments from both my children, gifts from friends, ornaments bought on special trips, or commemorating special events. Even one that's a giant cigar in honor of hubby's cigar smoking. As each ornament was brought out I would tell the little boys about the event, person or story surrounding the item. Some they were interested in, some they weren't but they loved the idea that they had meaning.

The place of honor on my tree (to the horror of my daughter when she was a status conscious teen) is always given to a small group of cheap, plastic lanterns and sparkly, golden plastic bells. These were all we could afford for the tree the first year we were married. Cheap, but you got a lot of them for a small price, so at least we had something on the tree. Today they hang to remind us of the time when all we had was our love and now, the family that has grown from that love. Maybe in a small way they remind us of God's love for all of us and His gift to us.

Sunday, the oldest "little" came in after church with a foam craft they had done in Sunday school. It was a lopsided green wreath with a manger scene precariously attached in the middle. He proudly took it to the tree and hung it on a branch, adding his contribution to the tree.

You know, it looked beautifully at home there.