Oh, Christmas Tree

Christmas trees. I love them. I didn’t know what being in Hawaii at Christmas time would be like. Our most gracious host offered to put hers out for us to use. I thought we probably just wouldn’t have a tree this year.

There’s a  silly video I especially love this time of year. “Look at the tree!” It’s very silly and very true. I’ll post a link at the end.

For most of our years together, Ed and I have had  live Christmas trees, ones with a root ball. We  then plant them at Epiphany. They’ve made  a fence line along the busy street of the (very urban)  flower farm we call Felder.  You do have to be a little forgiving when it’s a tree you can plant. Obviously it can’t be as big as a cut tree, and oftentimes it’s not perfectly shaped. I’m ok with that. We have some amazing trees in the garden now. 

.We had real trees when I was growing up, some were cut trees, but many of them we planted . I still have a handful of the tiny cones from the hemlock I picked as our tree one year. Hemlocks shouldn’t be asked to grow in the south, but I didn’t know that. I asked, she flourished. I grew up on a street in Memphis called St Nick Drive ( I’m not kidding 🎅🏼), and the last time I drove by, my hemlock was still there, towering over the huge homes that have replaced the 1950’s ranch homes of my childhood.

The  year we trekked to Georgia to be with my grandmothers for Christmas we got a sparkly aluminum tree. I loved it. You know, as an adult I’ve always wondered-how did my parents do that?? Four kids at 4 am, piled into the back of the station wagon with blankets and pillows and of course no seatbelts… I think what I really mean is how did Mama do that. Somehow Santa always knew where we were.

 I still have that sparkly aluminum tree. It’s  a happy extra for me. I love it so much, but it’s not my Christmas Tree. I’m also going to have a REAL tree every year.

I love my Christmas tree.

But our relationship, my tree and I, has a checkered past. These days I know what I want, and I usually get what I want, pretty much when I want it. I can get along with a few different varieties, some others not so much. The tree is up sometime mid advent, lights on. Ornaments might take a few days because the grands are  eager to help. But my tree and I are loving each other while wait for that quiet silence of Christmas Eve.

That hasn’t always been the case.

When Ed and I first married we spent our Christmases around our parents’ trees. We even spent the night at Ed’s parents  the first year to go to midnight mass down the street at Grace St Luke's. By year 2 we were less than 2 months from being parents. I can’t quite remember, but I know we didn’t have a tree year 3, the first year we were parents. We were living at St Columba by then. What I do recall is coming in Christmas Eve with a tired and cranky baby to the tornado of homemade Christmas gift- making I’d left behind. We dropped all of the presents we’d just received along with diaper bag, dishes from dinner and who knows what else in the kitchen before falling into bed.

The kitchen  sink was somehow left dripping. And plugged. We woke up to a flooded kitchen and some soggy gifts.

That year I “met” Gertrud Nelson. Her book, To Dance with God, was water for a thirsty mama.  Her stories of community and family celebrations set me off on a path and I haven’t looked back.

https://www.paulistpress.comhttps//www.paulistpress.com/Products/2812-8/to-dance-with-god.aspx

We decided it was time to grow up, time to figure out who we were as a family. One choice we made was to do our family gift giving on St Nicholas day rather than Christmas Day. Our kids still got oodles of presents from grandparents and cousins on the 25th, but Nicholas came to visit our house on the 6th.  I’ll tell more about that another time.

We also thought we were ready for a Christmas tree.

Somewhere along the line, we decided we really wanted Advent to be Advent and Christmas to be Christmas and,  therefore, we wanted our tree to go up on Christmas Eve. You know, like Clara and Fritz in the Nutcracker.

This meant that Ed and I STILL were up all night on Christmas Eve putting up the tree.

When the trumpet fanfare of Adeste Fideles, David Wilcox style, filled the house on Christmas morning, the kids would come downstairs. Lots of filled mangers to find, stacks of Christmas  books that had heretofore been hidden away, it was always a pretty fabulous morning.

So the Christmas trees…

First year- it was a 14 ft cedar cut from Ed’s family farm in Tunica. It went in the hallway where the ceiling went to the second story. It was impossible to decorate and seemed like it might fall at any minute.

Second year- Live tree. We got it a little early because we wanted to make sure we could get one to plant. Ed put it in a wheelbarrow outside. Rootball froze to the wheelbarrow. Ed thought that was no problem. He wheeled it into the house. Christmas tree in a wheelbarrow. He sorta kinda draped a tree skirt over it. He thought that made it GREAT. I was 25 years old. 2 babies now. I don’t think I’d found my voice yet.

3rd year- This time it was 2 trees, each so pitiful that  we put them together to try to make one happy tree. Obviously I was still working on finding my voice.

4th year- By now we (Ed) had taken to the idea of waiting until Christmas Eve to get a tree. Usually the tree lots were abandoned by then and we often came away with a free one.

5th year- this year the tree was beautiful and full and heavy and a little unbalanced. Ed did an elaborate tying in. Twine around the trunk that went to a nail in the base board on one side, about waist height into the molding around the porch door on the other side. That part is important.

I think we got to bed around 4 am. Soon after 5 Nathanael and Rebekah came bounding into our room. I told them to give me a minute, go sit on the stairs. Nathanael came back in a second later. “ Mommy. I didn’t mean to look, but the tree is upside down.”

Just like Dr. Seuss. It was bouncing from the twine where it had flipped.

6th year- We cut it close this  year. Seemed all the tree lots were completely sold out. I sent my father and sister to check a lot near mama and daddy’s house. It was abandoned, a sign declaring all trees free. The exorbitant price tag was still on it. Somewhere there’s a picture of my father and sister wearing dark glasses and hats. Daddy was sure it was stealing and didn’t want to be recognized.

7th year- By now our children were old enough to be embarrassed. It was bad enough that we drove to church with a dead tree (Jesse tree) on top of the car in early December while everyone else was driving home with their Christmas trees, but now we were driving to Christmas Eve service, stopping to look in dumpsters for trees. My children early on  mastered  the art of slumping in their seats lest they be spotted.

You get the point.

 I found my voice. I chose the trees,  and I’ve had many lovely trees these last 35 years.

And now we’re in Hawaii and we’ve returned to our roots.

I have to say, I’ve loved it. We did buy the strand of lights. Everything else has been foraged. I would’ve loved a Norfolk (Cook’s) pine. They’re everywhere here and many are being cut down but we never found a top of one. So Ed in his Gilligan hat hit up the dumpster.

The rest is magic.

Look at the tree…  https://youtu.be/RTs5eKZ0i1E