A tree-mendous dilemma

 

“Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In all circumstances give thanks ...” First Thessalonians

First of all, let me confess: My wife and I have not had a real, live Christmas tree in over thirty years. Our last “live tree” (which is a weird way to describe something that was hacked to death on some tree farm) was a “fresh” tree we bought on a lot near the house for Christmas 1990. We set it up in the living room, and as the tree thawed out, it began to drop needles. By morning, most needles had fallen off the tree, and it made the anorexic Charlie Brown Christmas tree (before decorating) look magnificent by comparison.

I’ll confess, too, that the “gentle Jesus, meek and mild” character I usually display in life can disappear in a flash when I am upset. That morning I saw the floor, now blackened by an infestation of fallen needles, and the likewise now naked tree standing in our living room, and I lost my cool (as had the sad little defrosted tree before me).

I should note that we were of a tradition that “the tree goes up the weekend before Christmas,” (which was a Tuesday in 1990). We were at the tail end of Advent (Christmas begins after sundown on December 24), and I was at my wit’s end. Many people enjoy the smell of spruce in the house, the tacky feel of tree-sap on their hands, and the joy of stringing lights on their yuletide evergreens. I am NOT one of those people.

Since the tree looked like a catastrophic fire hazard more than the festive holiday centerpiece it was intended to be, I ripped it up, tossed it to the curb, and we made a quick trip to the nearby mall where we bought the last artificial Christmas tree in the county. It was a display model, but I didn’t care. They didn’t even have a box for it, so the clerks dismantled the tree, tossing the pieces into black garbage sacks that we hauled out to the car.

We set it up, threw on the lights and ornaments, and have had artificial trees ever since; I’ve never looked back. No regrets. I do feel like it’s cheating, somehow, but be that as it may, I’ll live. I’ve got the tiniest tinge of guilt, of course, about putting something fake up for the holiday, but I trussed up that sense of sinfulness with some tinsel and stuck it into a far-away crawl-space in the undercroft of my soul. It’s both out of sight and out of mind.

Over the years we have had a variety of artificial trees. Each model has been an improvement over the last. The last few trees we’ve had go together in a matter of minutes, and are sized to fit the spaces we’ve had for them as we’ve moved. There are just two of us now and the kids and grandkids live far away, so we’ve tried to cut back a bit on our decorating. I’ve never been one to go all Clark Griswold, anyway. We no longer wait until the weekend before Christmas to put up the tree. Like the rest of the world, the outdoor lights go up on the least rainy day just before Thanksgiving, (we simply wait to plug them in for when the holiday season arrives) and the  tree goes up the weekend after Turkeyday.

The other morning I was sitting by our current tree and enjoying it when suddenly a section of lights went all supernova, shining about twice as bright as normal. As I pondered what that meant (was I about to be visited by an angel?), the lights went dark. Here we were, a week before Christmas, and a section of fake stars on our fake tree had gone out. What was I to do?

Rejoice in the Lord always. Again, I say, rejoice! Life’s too short to grieve or grump. Even fake trees die. Will we undecorate and replace it, or will we enjoy that which is imperfect, awaiting that which is perfect to arrive? 

Here in this, our valley, and in all circumstances, I will simply give thanks, do what I must, and wish you all a very (genuine, heart-felt) Merry Christmas!

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)