“Stop, Cliff! STOP! LOOK!”
My heart leaped.
After weeks of praying to find a Christmas tree, there it was, round a random bend we’d turned, standing in the hot sun, caked with red dust by the road.
For weeks, friends had asked if we had Christmas plans. Many encouraged us to try our best to continue with Christmas traditions from home, but I wavered.
There just wasn’t a lot of choice around we lived.
“MAMA, SURPRISE!” I returned home one day to find my girls’ handmade paper streamers put up all over our home.
“We made Christmas decorations, Mama! Don’t worry, if we can’t find a tree! Christmas will still be great!”
My Mama’s heart beamed with gratitude. Yet, I knew how important it was to them, how they loved making ornaments together, how much they looked forward to seeing the pile of gifts under the tree grow every year.
“I wish we did have a tree,” my 7-year old confessed one day, in a whisper.
So imagine the tears that welled in my eyes when I saw it.
As we put it up yesterday, I realized how much simpler life had become. While Christmas used to be filled with to-do-lists of presents to buy and cards to write, gatherings to attend and people to invite— the lack of malls, and availability of things in our small town compels us to cherish what we find far more deeply. In a land of fewer and simpler things, I’ve discovered how long we’ve been drowning in surfeit, frenzied with choice, harried by hurry.
And how little we need to find joy.
“I already made a star,” my 5-year old said undauntingly, eyes twinkling, smile exploding, when the storekeeper said they don’t sell what I thought would have been the most important part of the tree.
As my children put up their long-anticipated Christmas tree and their handmade tinsels, I saw gratitude swell up in them when my 7-year old said into my ear, almost blinking back tears at a realization that never would have hit her back home, “Mama, I noticed most houses here don’t have Christmas trees. I’m so thankful. Thank you for getting it.”
“I’m thankful, too sweetheart.”