My Nana used to love to decorate for Christmas. Her house during the holidays would become an All Conference example of extremism in the defense of Christmas. Anything glass-windows, mirrors, table tops, or trays would be covered with white spray on snow. I always thought she was a stenciling maniac, as stencils of reindeer, Santa, and the baby Jesus covered almost every square inch. Just to look out her front window you would think it was a blizzard from the amount of snow she applied to it. But her real weakness was her aluminum tree, with the revolving colored light. Blue-cool, red-ok, but why yellow on a silver tree? But this is the precious memory I have of her house at Christmas. Just so you don't think I got all my Christmas decorating madness from my mother's side of the family, my Grandma also had a silver tree-with blue balls and only a blue light. My favorite color, how could I not love it! And also an early symptom that I might be color blind-aren't all trees multi colored? Or blue?
My parents always had real trees, until artificial became the norm. My father was never much on decorating-usually our tree was the last up and first down. On Christmas morning after all the presents were opened, you could tell by the look in his eye that tree would never make it till dinner, or maybe even lunch. And so when I moved out on my own, I decided to have my own Christmas tradition. A real tree-that stays up after Christmas Day, and no snow on the windows. A true rebel, with a cause. For concern.
The first Christmas that Theresa and I had-33 years ago, thanks for asking, we decided to cut our own tree. Trees in 1977 were selling for $5-10, so it only made sense to cut your own for twice the price. And after borrowing a Jeep Cherokee from work-full size they hadn't shrunk yet, drove up to Los Alamos National Forest, bought the $5 permit, and along with Doug Hart's sister and husband, looked for the perfect tree. A late start guaranteed us a short window of daylight ,so we started looking as soon as we hit the forest.
Now trees have an unusual effect before they are cut down-they are bigger than they look. Doug's sister found a nice one, but I was looking for tree nirvana. And there it was, perfectly shaped, and full. Cutting it down, I realized it was big, but hey, it was dark-it would be just right in the light. So with our trees tied on top, we headed home. Now leaving the forest on a dirt road, has its advantages, as it keeps your speed down. And as I kept thinking this tree was way too tall, and looking for a way out-there in the middle of the road lay this beautiful full tree-only shorter than mine. Perfection improving upon perfection. Now how it got there I don't know, maybe the people who left it needed something taller-I didn't stop to ask-or think, I switched trees-gloating over my good favor, and safe inside the heated Jeep, secure in the thought that this was to be the best Christmas ever-my wife to be, and the perfect tree. The things dreams are made of.
After dropping of Doug's sister-still can't remember her name, with their tree-we headed back to our second story apartment-anxious to set up our tree. Things looked good as we got a space by the front door, and excitement grew as I muscled it up the steps, and to the front door. Theresa went ahead to open it, and when I got there I learned why the second perfect tree of the day was in the road. While the first was too tall-this was too wide. Like the width of a single car garage door, and almost as tall. Not wanting to lose it in front of my bride to be-this was our first Christmas, I immediately threw it off the balcony-using cuss words that would have made the Ralphie's dad blush and beam with pride, at the same time. It would not fit through the door! That's it-Christmas was over. But Theresa, knowing the perfect thing to encourage me, said "I'll go get a fake tree tomorrow."
And that was all it took. If I had to take the door out-that tree was going in! And then it occurred to me-through the vile language, cold air, and embarrassment-take it in bottom first-and the branches won't stick out! And I did-and it did. And we set it up in the front window, decorated, turned off the lights, and all was at peace. Until we left the room.
I didn't tell you about Obie Wan Kenobee, our hybrid Siamese cat. Who at the first chance went up the tree, causing it to crash to the floor. The banging we heard was glass balls, glass bulbs, and ornaments flying everywhere in the room. I was so mad I would have decorated the cat if I could have caught him, but somehow they know just how long your arms are when hiding under a bed. Note-until the day after Christmas when we took it down, this was at least a daily event. At one point we even considered laying it sideways like we had found it in the road, but it took up too much room. All this tradition for only $40, when you included gas and meals, and of course the tree permit. Why would anyone spend only $5 and miss out on all this fun?
And that was the first and but not the last time I cut my own tree. I had one more sordid experience before I let Theresa go buy one. And that is why I believe there are no Christmas trees in the Bible. God wanted it to be a silent nice-peaceful and calm-so His son could come into the world. If my ancestors had been there with a tree, a hatchet, and a saw-who knows what we would be singing during the Christmas season. And I can promise you there would be no goodwill to men either.
So let's keep Christ in Christmas-He is the reason for the season. And it seems to make the season brighter just knowing how he came into the world-to save us. From our sin-and the ghosts of Christmas pasts. And from ourselves-lest we choose to celebrate with a tree.
We still have a tree-but the tradition has evolved into one that is fun-and not worshipped. We are blessed to know why Christmas is, and who it is about. And so we celebrate everyday the birth of Jesus. No tradition or tree could ever mean so much as He does. May your Christmas be merry, and bright-and may all your Christmases be white. And if not, see me after class for my Nana's secret.
He who is treeless-is tree indeed!
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com