The Tannenbaum Blues

We’ve always been late putting up our Christmas tree, at least compared to everyone else I know. In the days when we used the woodstove more, our excuse was that a real tree would be a fire hazard by Christmas Day if we put it up too early. And don’t even mention an artificial tree, because it HAD to be a real tree. After all, getting the tree used to be a big adventure for the kids...one that involved the family trekking off to a local Christmas tree farm, hiking hill and dale until we found the perfect tree (i.e., the one that got my seal of approval), cutting that sucker down, and dragging it home like a prize catch on Animal Planet.

After it was properly trimmed and screwed into a tree stand, we would throw open the great room doors and bring it into the house, always tucking it into the same perfect corner next to the bookshelves. I was in charge of decorating the tree from the crocheted angel at the top to the tree skirt spread out around the base. (Naturally I always tried to con someone else into putting the lights on first, if possible.)

So this year was pretty much going according to plan, albeit with less pomp and circumstance, when I asked my son Ben (finally home from Boone by way of Chattanooga) to venture forth and get the tree – any tree (after all, it was already the 19th!). Bless his heart, I was working and Hannah had other plans, so off to Mendota he went … and back to Brumley Gap he came with a very large Scotch pine. Ben and his dad then worked for a fair amount of time to trim the bottom, install the tree in the stand, and wrestle it into the house. When we finally determined it was as straight as it was going to get, they washed their hands of it (literally…Scotch Pines are very sticky).

The tree stood in my great room au natural until last night, when I came home from work, pushed up my sleeves, and commenced to decorating it. The lights went on beautifully...then I took a real leap of faith and let silver and gold ribbon cascade down from the top of the tree, rather than wrapping it around the tree’s girth like garland. It looked great.

Hanging our ornaments on the tree took the most time. We’ve never had a “department store tree,” because each of our ornaments has a story. They rarely match, but I know the history of each one, and have, to the extent they’ve paid attention, taught my children those stories. So when I present them with their ornaments one day, after they’ve moved out of my home and are decorating their own family tree, they, too, will be able to pass the story behind each ornament along to their families.

Finally, after three hours, the tree was finished, and if I may say so myself, it was perfect. I had watered it, spent some time just gazing in admiration, and wandered off to make brownies for my co-workers. Brownies baking in the oven, I wandered back to wrap the base of the tree with a skirt and place our presents under its branches. I was pretty well pleased with myself.

Until it came crashing down, that is.


It was almost as if it was falling in slow motion… I was standing there, but there was nothing I could do but watch helplessly as it fell over, crashing to the floor and scattering ornaments and berries in ever direction. Broken glass and water were all over my hardwood floor and under the furniture (heavy furniture, like the sofa and piano). I was too stunned to move.

After I got over my initial shock, I called my daughter Hannah, who was on her way home from a movie. Unfortunately, she misunderstood and thought a tree from our yard had fallen across our house and landed in the living room. But once she got home and discerned the real situation, she helped me pick up the disgraced tree and put it out on the deck, presumably as punishment. She even helped me clean up, sending me off to bed before she swept the floor...what a girl.

Twenty-four years, and our tree has never, ever fallen over. And it’s funny, but I’ve heard three other friends tell of their trees falling over this year, as well. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Christmas trees had secret lives, and maybe even a union. Could they be on strike this year…?

In his letter to the church at Philippi, Paul wrote,

“Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” ~ Philippians 4:5-7 (NIV)

I wish I could tell you I handled the whole tree crisis with poise and good humor. But the truth is I didn’t, and God’s grace, much less my gentleness, wasn’t evident when that tree fell. I’m not proud to admit it, but at one point I whined, “This freakin' tree is a symbol of my life!” And true enough, just when I think I have everything perfectly in place in my life, the whole thing is likely to topple over.

Tonight, the tree is lying naked in the yard, awaiting our decision as to whether it can be redeemed as “The 2007 Christmas Tree,” or whether it will be unceremoniously exiled and hauled to the burn pile. I’m not sure what to do with it yet, but I do know it’s just a tree, and I’ve still got three full days before Christmas to figure it out.