I owe my husband an apology. It’s not his fault he picked a holy (not in the righteous way) Christmas tree. It’s not his fault I hate Christmas this year. He can’t read my mind. Although, he really should be able to by now.
I am not feelin’ the Christmas spirit.
The Ugly Christmas Tree I Loved
I love everything about Christmas. For whatever reason, the Christmas spirit has been evasive this year. I’ve tried making cookies, shopping, decorationg, but it all just feels…meh?
This year my dad decided it would be fun to walk into the woods and chop down a tree. That should get me in the Christmas mood! So we did. My brother Micah (writer/air force-nerd) My dad (writer/pastor-nerd) myself (writer/nerd-nerd) and Max (dog/moose) crammed into his pick up and drove 2 hours into the New Mexico Mountains to find the perfect Christmas tree.
While we drove it became clear the mountains weren’t exactly…wintery. We saw not white but a lot of brown. Albeit, different shades. There was light brown and dark brown and the trees were a special tinge of greenish-orange-brown. Eventually we realized it wasn’t going to get snowy and green with pine. We decided to stop and walk around.
There’s a funny thing that happens when you stare at dead trees for hours. You develop a sort of “beer goggle” tree-vision. What used to look like scraggly dead fire wood begin to look like promising trees you’d proudly present in your home. Then I heard my dad’s excited voice, “MEGAN! Come see this tree!”
A rail ten feet tall. About five branches spiraled out in random directions all the way up. “What do you think!?”
“I think it’s adorable. It looks like something from a Dr. Seuss book. Mom will love it.” I said. So we took it. Because we’re writers. We’re sensitive and we like ugly things.
And the beer-tree goggles.
If you remember Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree, he picked the saddest tree in the whole lot and rescued it. That was us! The saviors of the sad little, or in this case tall, Christmas tree. In the end of the Charlie Brown Christmas they fixed it up , the branches fill out and it’s beautiful. We’re taught a lesson on what Christmas is really about.
But, Charlie Brown is a movie. This is reality. We got it home, decorated it, watered it and it looked worse. Mom hated it. Perhaps she needs to watch Charlie Brown.
It looked worse. Christmas was not in the air. Nope. Forest fires, that’s in the air.
The Ugly Christmas Tree My Husband Loved
This brings me to my apology. I had been watching my nephew all day and was exhausted. When I got home Jon was on a Christmas high. “Lets go get a tree!”
“I’m tired. If you want one you can go by yourself.”
So he did.
Real Christmasy of me. I felt bad after he left. I had visions of my poor husband, cold, in the dark searching for our Christmas tree by himself. He had an Oliver Twist hat also… and a tin cup for spare change.
My imagination tends to be a little overdramatic.
He returned with a monster 7 foot tree. The difference between a child with a Christmas tree and my husband is one has a beard and a bitter wife.
I was instantly less than thrilled. We have a 7 foot Christmas tree for two grown-adults and no place in our little apartment to put it. As we started to string the lights it became apparent this tree was missing something.
Okay, it was missing a lot of something. Like about a foot of branches through the middle. Unable to contain my creepy spirit-channeling of Mr. Scrooge, I gritted through my teeth, (as nicely as I could), “There’s a HOLE in this TREE!?”
Quietly, he dropped his lights walked away, “It was dark…”
Yesterday I had an emotional break down over a Christmas tree. Because I’m a woman and it’s stupid.
I have watched the Charlie Brown special every year since I can remember. I get choked up everytime Linus begins with, “Sure, Charlie Brown. I can tell you what Christmas is all about.”
I forgot – I’m not going to find my Christmas spirit in stuff.
Then the hammer really came down …I’m Lucy. (Sorry Char..I mean Jon.)
It’s not important what I feel, but what I do. It’s about giving and Who taught us to give in the first place.