The Storytelling Tree
Every year I gaze longingly at beautifully decorated trees in the mall and in magazines, and on social media I see pictures of friends’ trees that perfectly replicate something I saw on Pinterest. Inspired, I trek to the hobby store, convinced that I, too, can recreate a tree of magnificence, a tree that will say wow, only to return home empty-handed.
When it comes right down to it, I don’t want a tree that comes from a hobby store and says wow.
Our Christmas tree won’t win any awards, won’t be featured in any kind of home decorating magazine, and can never be replicated on Pinterest. It has no fancy bows or streamers. It’s not themed or color-coordinated. But on every branch hangs a story. An invitation to gather ’round. A journey of life waiting to be shared.
The story of who we are, where we have been, and what we hope for is told on our tree.
The Texas boot tells of my El Paso birthplace; the wooden sleigh calls to mind memories of our first Air Force assignment; the fighter pilot speaks to my husband’s career and love of flying. We have ornaments from our colleges, fraternity, and sorority that recount life before there was an “us.”
The feather angel is so delicate she seems to float. She is the very first ornament my husband and I bought when we celebrated our first Christmas together and the first one we place on our tree each year. We cradle her carefully and remember our first tree in our first home as she takes her place of honor.
The different United Methodist Church ornaments celebrate the church of my youth, where my husband and I were married and our children were baptized.
Little-boy faces smile out at me as I hang all the homemade ornaments from my sons’ preschool years. A wistful desire to be able to relive some of those early years so I can be a better mom is mixed with joy as I thank God for the men those toddlers have grown into, despite what I believe my failures were. Proof positive of the power of grace.
Our tree is laden with ornaments collected during vacations and travels. With the Wall Drug Store orb, I journey back to the Black Hills of South Dakota and picture that very large buffalo we encountered on our off-road bike ride. I remember my boys getting as close as possible to take a picture while I gave the creature plenty of berth.
The Maine lobster fisherman triggers fun memories but is also tinged with lessons learned. Regret is in that ornament, and it hangs on the tree as a reminder to keep our priorities in order.
The blue-and-white Hungarian egg brings back the fun of a trip to visit friends in Budapest. A policeman stopped us as we drove home from dinner, but he let us go with just a warning. They have a strictly enforced seat belt law there, and we think he was dumbfounded to see four people strapped in seat belts in the backseat that was just large enough for two. Crazy Americans!
The multitude of cruise ships celebrate the life of my mother-in-law. Many of the ornaments are gifts from my parents from their travels.
In the magnolia blossom, Mardi Gras masks, and Noah’s Ark ornaments, echoes of children playing in the halls of our church’s preschool ring loud in my heart, as do the love and friendship of the moms who shared their lives with me and let me share mine with them. They mark a season that has passed, but the memories linger.
A white-and-red candy cane J and the hand-piercing spike are the last ornaments to find their home on our tree. My heart warms as I think of the birth of the baby Jesus, all the while remembering the cross is not far away. The magnitude of God’s love for us fills me with gratitude.
The journey our ornaments invite me on each year reminds me that Christmas doesn’t end with the last box being stacked in the basement in January. My tree may not be the latest in designer trees, but every ornament represents people, events, and seasons woven into the fabric of our lives.
Our tree tells the story of life, friendships, adventures, lessons, and, most of all, of love. The love of friends, family, and especially the love of my heavenly Father. God’s love shown through his Son and experienced in the journey of our everyday, bringing richness to our lives.
This is what Christmas is all about: love for the everyday. May your tree tell a similar story.
Denise Roberts is a wife, mom, and joyful soon to be mother-in-law. She loves sharing a good cup of coffee on her back deck with friends and morning snuggles from her 100-lb. chocolate lab, Hudson. She writes with a passion to share how to live holy, where faith and life intersect. Connect with her at www.deniseroberts.org.
Photograph © Bethany Beams, used with permission
Our Christmas tells our family’s story as well. That’s much better than any decorator tree!
Merry Christmas to you all as we celebrate our Saviour’s birthday once again.
Beautiful story!
He he. I know I wrote this post today, but I just have to add…. My husband helped put the lights on this year and wrapped each branch like a pre-lit tree comes. It was beautiful. He gave up 2 hours and half way through. The rest of the tree is covered in lights just shoved in there. And we now have two dark spots where half a strand of lights has gone out in two places. Oh well. It is still beautiful and I love it!
Dearest Denise,
Thank you for being an authentic woman of God!
I appreciate your realness as you share your life in your writings.
I noticed in your article today and in an earlier one about mothering that you had expressed regret about not being a better mother. I connected with you on this point and thought that it may be of comfort to you that I share something God laid on my heart the first time I read about your regret.
I too wished I had done a thousand things differently and I would beat my self up about it.
I would spend a lot of time asking God to forgive me and
and then came a revelation!
We are still “children” even though we are grown ups and parents, we are “His children ” and still learning and finding our way. We are never going to be perfect but we were absolutely the right parents for our children!
God showed me that I (as well as you) were the parents our children were designed to be with and that we modelled what it looks like to not be perfect but to live in God’s grace….how it looks to say “I’m sorry, how it looks to seek the Lord for forgiveness how it looks to want with your whole heart to be more like Jesus!”
That is the education that could never be given to our children if we had done everything “right”.
And as God in His fatherly way reminded me, what was not done gave Him the room to work these “failings” out in the lives of our children. It will bring them closer to Him.
“For He that began a good work in you (and them) will be faithful to complete it!”
So, rest assured dear Denise that God loves our hearts and sees it all and wants us to know that we can trust Him that He has forgiven our failings! It gives Him great pleasure that we place our dependence on Him to work these things out in our children.
Now that our only child is engaged to a beautiful young man and leaving our home soon, I feel blessed to have a “do over” as my more grown up self.
And, instead of running over my “coulda, shoulda, woulda” mental tape, I now see how much I have grown in my relationship with the Lord and realize I may not be in this place without my “failings” ….my words not God’s!
You are special beyond words…bless your open heart!
Merry Christmas!
Suzanne Heslep