But not real pine. A spray; a candle; dried bark and needles in a bowl. Because our tree isn’t real.
Horrible, you cry. Sacrilege, you moan.
Maybe. Or maybe our family loves to celebrate our savior’s birth so much that we do anything we can to prolong and extend the holy days.
During the first eight years of marriage, hubs and I diligently purchased a freshly cut tree, gathered up our collection of delicate and one-of-a-kind ornaments and lovingly decorated it, despairing over its eventual trip out to the street for Boy Scout collection.
When we moved to New York, we bought our tree the day after Thanksgiving—standard practice in California. By the first week of December, the dry air and baseboard heater had turned the tree into a fire hazard. We flooded the tree’s base with water and prayed daily that our Christmas wouldn’t end up in flames.
The day after Christmas, we purchased a fake tree.
Every year since then—26 years this year—we have dragged the giant box out from under the stairs and enjoyed the daily twinkling lights and spinning ornaments through the end of November, for the entire month of December and past hub’s birthday in January. Without worry of flames.
No, it’s not the same as a "real" tree. But thanks to mankind’s desire to create something never as good, but with a defined purpose, we have more time to celebrate God’s gift to us. Jesus.
PRAYER: Heavenly Father, thank you for Christmas. Thank you so much, Jesus for setting aside your glorious divinity temporarily and taking on the burden of humanity. Thank you for the many ways we celebrate Christmas and remember your sacrifice. Amen.
WHAT ABOUT YOU? Real or fake?
