My mom, Nancy, is posting a different Christmas memory for 12 days. She gave me her blessing to repost them here. It’s amazing how a life story can be told through the lens of a certain day.
Ninth Christmas Day Memory– the Tree
My kids all know the only part of Christmas I hate is the tree wrangling. I hate cutting it down, I hate dragging it home inside or on top of the van, and I hate trying to get it to stay up. (Once it is up the tree and I get along fine.) Getting a tree is not in my job description and never will be. It was my husband’s job. He majored in Forestry, worked for the Forestry Dept. in the summers, and even had the scars to prove he had been a lumberjack/choker setter for 6 months when we were at Oregon State.
One year, my brother, Dick and sister in law, Jean, helped Philip pick out and bring home a tree for us; another year, my friends, John and Melanie, brought me a tree; one year I even bought a tree off the back of a truck from a guy driving through the neighborhood hawking trees. Somehow, there is always a tree, whether we cut if down at a farm, drag it home from a lot, or someone kindly brings one.
When you are a working mom and the kids are on Christmas break, you try to have activities for them to do, but you never know for sure what they are up to. One day I came home and could not get in the front door. My children, led by Karey, I believe, had gone to a tree farm, cut down the largest tree they could find and somehow dragged it home.
Usually I had a 6’ tree in the family room or living room – what I consider a “normal” Christmas tree -you know, something manageable….
This tree, however, was anything but manageable. The kids placed it in the front hall so it could take advantage of the two story high ceiling of the entranceway. It was so wide I had to walk around to the back door to get in the house. Have no idea how they got it through the door, (and yes there was some minor damage to the house); however they were soooo pleased with themselves at picking out this gigantic tree and getting it put up all by them selves to surprise me while I was at work.
The lesson I learned that year is that Christmas happens because of all of us – And we all have a bit of magic up our sleeve – And as our children grow up they will create their own kind of magic.