It was Christmas 2000. For 23 years of marriage I had collected, gathered, and hoarded anything Christmas. It was my holiday! I loved anything Christmas, but especially Santas. The magic Santa promised to bring on Christmas I was forever seeking. Each room had a theme. Ascending the apartment stairs, trees sang and escorted you. Polar bears in the master bedroom, snowmen in the girl's room, the boys had a lodge look; but the living room was Santa's, I was making cross-stitched Christmas stockings with a different style of St. Nick on each one! My tree was covered with gifted ornaments from the school children of the private school I'd taught in for 20 years. I hoped my living room gave the growing youth that tingling feeling, when viewing their art work chronicled on the tree.
Despite my husband's objections, this year I was adding collectables in an effort to upscale my decor. "We have too many children for those fragile ornaments. Someone is going to knock them off the tree and you'll get upset and angry." In my enthusiasm, I couldn't see how my children were actually beginning to dread the season. My efforts to emphasis serving and giving to others during the holidays was actually wearing them out. I was so caught up, I didn't realize my efforts were taking the joy out of the season I so loved. I couldn't see myself as an angry bear if everything wasn't just right. I didn't see the disappointment in the children's eyes when I rearranged the ornaments they had hung, rearranged because it wasn't balance, or good enough for mom. I was doing what my mom had always done, not learning from her mistake, but entitled to repeat it.
The apartment was decorated, but I was still tweaking the living room tree. My second son, Seth, 15 years old was resigned to help me. He wanted to be anywhere but there. I remember his determination to be passively submitted, because no one could win in a battle with MOM. I felt the tree was off center from the window about 3 inches. For the final decorating act, I wanted him to pick it up and move it by reaching within the branched to grab the trunk. Seth was cooperating the best a 15 year old boy can. But something happened when he reached within the tree. Some how this artificial treasure of a Christmas tree broke in half and fell over in the center of the room, breaking one of my precious new collectables! Remorse, and anger came in an instant, but my ears tore my attention away as I listened to my son burst out, "I broke the Christmas tree!!!" Laughing hilariously he kept repeating, "I can't believe it! I broke the Christmas tree! I didn't mean to, but I broke the Christmas tree!!!" Seth was laughing so hard he couldn't control himself. No fear of Mom subdued him, and after all, I couldn't hurt him anymore than I already had. In that moment, I felt like the Grinch having an epiphany revelation. I could posture in anger, irrationally blame Seth and totally ruin any joy for this Christmas, or I could accept the truth. We should have left well enough alone! Seth was more beautiful and important than that tree could ever be. Nothing in my home should be of more value than the people in it. I took in the laughter, realizing the virtue of the moment. Having been critized for adoring my children even as they misbehave, I tried to pull myself back into character. I remember questioning the sincerity of his apology, as he "laughed like an idiot", I think I said. That sounds like something I would have said. But Seth's laughter cracked something in me, which needed shattering. I remember it now, trying to lean into the lesson, and relive the glory of that instant. I want love, mercy and kindness to flavor my life, more! Thank you, God, my son broke the Christmas tree of 2000! It was one of my life's highlights.
Since the day the Christmas tree broke, my definition for perfection has changed. I am told I am not as "linear" as I used to be. I find myself opposed to tight structure, or predetermined standards. God created the trees, called them good, but you'll never see an absolutely symmetrical one in nature. Maybe aligning with God views includes judging irregularities as "good and beautiful." If the neighbors are offended by my droopy lights, well, maybe they should just get over it! I have!
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