Tree Trimming

Another title for this blog post could have been, "My mom and I are sentimental saps." That is really what this post is about. 

Over Thanksgiving I got my belly full of turkey, and sat back and let the tryptophan lead me into a food coma. While many people gear up to go Black Friday shopping,* Mom and I prepare ourselves for a day full of memories. Our Christmas tree is one big, pine scented scrapbook of our lives. We don't know how to decorate our tree without crying.

Walking down the wooded path.

Getting a tree has been the same every year that I can remember. We call the Christmas Tree farmer, and let him know that we are on our way. Dad, Adam, Kurt, and I, and for the last two years Jack, load into our truck and head over. When we get there we walk down a long wooded path. It opens up into a field full of trees just waiting to be selected to be taken home and covered with lights and cheer. When we were little we would play hide and seek among all of the trees.

We always argue over how tall the tree should be. I am on the taller side of the argument, and contrary to popular belief, I don't always win. The tree farmer cuts down our tree. We bring it home and Mom declares that is the best tree we've ever had, even if it is a bit small this year. After making sure the tree is secure, straight, and watered, the boys depart to do something manly like watch football or repair a toilet (they really did that this year), while mom and I are left to decorate the tree, because "you two love that sentimental girlie stuff." Kurt did put the lights on for us this year, which was a huge help, thanks Kurt!

Looking for just the right one.

Tree Picked

Adam adding water.

Mom and I then start to pull the ornaments out of boxes and place them on our tree. They remind us of places we've been and people we love. We tear up over the ones that remind us of people who are no longer with us.

When my mom was little some of her relatives didn't have enough money to buy presents for everyone. Instead they collected nuts from their yard and painted them making these ornaments.

This is one of the ornaments that used to be on my Grandma Joyce and Grandpa Don's tree. It was one of my favorites when I was little. Now it gets to be on our tree.

Every year my Aunt Lori gets us ornaments. Last year I asked for a lion to represent Aslan.

My Dad's Aunt Emma made this beaded bell, we have a few of them on our tree.

Three pairs of baby shoes for the three of us kids.

Mom brought this home from her family trip to Hawaii, it was the last trip they took before we lost Grandma.

Grandpa's loved to play monopoly especially with his grandkids. We got him this money clip one year for Christmas. I don't think he ever used it, but Boardwalk with a Hotel was his favorite way to take us down, and it reminds us of him. If we landed on Boardwalk, he would sit back in his chair like a king, half smoked cigarette in hand, and gleefully exclaim "Oh yes, my most expensive one." The butterfly was on his flowers at his funeral. 

This year we lost a big beautiful tree that stood in the middle of our yard. This tree provided our house with shade and privacy. It provided a home for countless squirrels, which provided us with countless hours of entertainment. You know how much we love squirrels, and they seriously yelled at us for taking down their home. All this adds up to us being pretty devistated about losing our tree so i decided to make us an ornament from the saw shavings.

Our tree in the center, on a summer day.

The top of the tree on Easter when we released sky lanterns.

As the squirrels call it; The Massacre

Drying out the wood and filling the ornament.

A new memory added to our Christmas tree.

What memories are on your tree?

*Black Friday was named thusly because it is the day that the stores ledgers go from being in the red to being in the black, therefore it was meant to be a positive name, instead of the negative one that it has become. I prefer the postivie meaning.

Thanksgiving Heart Preparation.

I think we have already established that I cry as often as you can find a rerun of Friends on tv. If football makes me cry, it only logical follows that so also do many many things. Well today friends there were buckets of tears as I began reading One Thousand Gifts.

I remember when it first came out, the Zon (Amazon.com) told me I would like it. Fool that I am, I didn't fully trust the Zon's recommendation; and so I put it on my wish list thinking I might get to it someday. Slowly I started hearing people talk about how great One Thousand Gifts is. It started being recommended to me, so I decided that November would be a great month to read a book about thankfulness. I invited my roommates to join in, and I started reading yesterday. Oh how I wish I would have trusted the Zon and bought the book two years ago. I have to force myself to keep from reading more, and instead meditate on the dosage that I have been given.

Ann Voskamp's words are like dark chocolate melting in your mouth and warming your insides. The are profoundly poetic, and I find that I prefer to read them aloud. I thought I was a thankful person, and now I am broken hearted over the arrogance of my unthankfulness. Although only two chapters in, I highly recommend that you join myself and my roommates, and make it part of your Thanksgiving celebrating. I submit this sampling to entice you:

"I wonder too... if the rent in the canvas of our life backdrop, the losses that puncture our world, our own emptiness might  actually become places to see. 
To see through to God.
That that which tears open our soul, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God whom we endlessly crave."