Today is the day we take down the Christmas tree and all the beautiful decorations around the house.
I can cope with returning the decorations back to their storage boxes.
But the tree?
Bruce doesn't understand my grief.
To him, a Christmas tree is just a Christmas tree.
But for me, that lovely eight-foot Noble fir has become my friend.
We selected her among all the other trees in the lot.
We brought her into our home.
We clothed her with our Christmas finery.
Crowned her with a star.
Admired her.
Charged her with the guarding of our wrapped gifts, until the Special day.
She has presided over our Christmas parties, like a gloriously decked, honored Grand Dame of our affairs.
And today, we simply strip her of her finery, her crown, her lights. . . then drag her unceremoniously into the cold garage and cut her into manageable lengths so that the waste management people will consent to haul her remains away.
I know it's silly, but I want to say, "I'm sorry, beautiful tree!"
I always need to remind myself that the tree is already dying.
I am like that tree.
My body is slowly dying, too.
One day, my own days of "Christmas glory" will come to an end.
The children and friends that I've cherished will have to say goodbye to me, too.
I hope on that day that I can know that I have been a glorious tree. I hope that my beauty and finery--laid on me by Supreme hands -- has brought joy and pleasure to those who've gazed on me. I hope that my little light--a reflection of His light -- has shed delight and comfort.
"Therefore, as God's chosen people. holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience." (Col. 3:12 NIV Bible)
I can cope with returning the decorations back to their storage boxes.
But the tree?
Bruce doesn't understand my grief.
To him, a Christmas tree is just a Christmas tree.
But for me, that lovely eight-foot Noble fir has become my friend.
We selected her among all the other trees in the lot.
We brought her into our home.
We clothed her with our Christmas finery.
Crowned her with a star.
Admired her.
Charged her with the guarding of our wrapped gifts, until the Special day.
She has presided over our Christmas parties, like a gloriously decked, honored Grand Dame of our affairs.
And today, we simply strip her of her finery, her crown, her lights. . . then drag her unceremoniously into the cold garage and cut her into manageable lengths so that the waste management people will consent to haul her remains away.
I know it's silly, but I want to say, "I'm sorry, beautiful tree!"
I always need to remind myself that the tree is already dying.
I am like that tree.
My body is slowly dying, too.
One day, my own days of "Christmas glory" will come to an end.
The children and friends that I've cherished will have to say goodbye to me, too.
I hope on that day that I can know that I have been a glorious tree. I hope that my beauty and finery--laid on me by Supreme hands -- has brought joy and pleasure to those who've gazed on me. I hope that my little light--a reflection of His light -- has shed delight and comfort.
"Therefore, as God's chosen people. holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience." (Col. 3:12 NIV Bible)
A beautiful post, Dena. It was a lovely tree and you are a lovely friend. A godly, gracious, generous woman. Love to you and Bruce.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Nancy.
ReplyDelete