O Christmas Tree

I don’t know what Wikipedia says about it, but to me a Christmas tree must, first and foremost, inspire. Certain Western theories say that it is a symbol of hope – during winter, at a time when most trees are devoid of leaves, a verdant Christmas tree represents Christ, a saviour appearing in a world filled with strife. I agree with that too.

And give hope. That’s what our Christmas tree at home stirs in me, a sense of hope. That despite all the troubles of the year that’s about to end, a new beginning is on the horizon with its promises that tomorrow will be better and we’ll be happier.

I used to ask our good neighbor for permission to prune their cypress tree towards late November. The cuttings I used to cover a conical frame I usually fashion with wood and chicken wire. For a few years that was a tradition and the scent of cypress was a reminder that Christmas, the season of love, of joy and happiness, was just around the corner. Christmas was, and is, always the happiest time of the year at home.

My wife is at her happiest during Christmas, the happiness springs from making the rest of the family happy. No matter what our financial situation is, everyone would have a few gifts to unwrap. She’s wonderful that way. Christmas is about that, making every single member of the family feel that they’re special. After all, Christmas is about one man who died for every single one of us.

We did not open gifts at twelve midnight. On Christmas Eve, we dressed up and went to hear mass, after which we would head straight back home for a late dinner. We went to bed after telling stories and sharing laughter at the dining table, with the children hardly able to stop themselves from sneaking under the Christmas tree of cypress needles and chicken wire to unwrap boxes with their names on it, and hopefully, to finally catch Santa. But we only had to remind them that Santa is paying extra attention right then for some last minute revisions in that list of children who deserved a special gift from him, and they would immediately forget about risking losing that one special gift from Santa.

We would wake up the next morning to the sound of our children’s shouts of joy upon discovering the gifts that Santa had left for them. There was that one Christmas when Santa actually left a trail of ashy footprints just next to the fireplace and towards the window. Whatever we, the parents, were able to get them for Christmas, Santa always gave the best gifts. And he never forgot to leave a note too for the children – reminders about how they’ve been the whole year and advise on how to be even better children the rest of the New Year.

A few years ago, after moving quite far away from our neighbor with a cypress tree, we finally bought a Christmas tree with a steel frame covered with faux-pine needles made of plastic in green and silver. We still tried to spruce it up with some real cypress needles to make it appear thicker, but we know that we had to have those cypress leaves for their aroma. The smell of Christmas.

We’ve been going through a rough patch lately, and when my wife put up the tree just a couple of nights ago, immediately the sense of despair, and anger, and hopelessness, and uncertainty vanished. It’s not an extravagant tree, with just the right amount of lights, and trinkets that tell the history of our young family. Cross-stitched pin cushions. A few Christmas balls in red, green and silver. Some figurines bought garage sales and ukay-ukay stores. Some object that a son or a daughter insisted on hanging on the tree. My wife turned on the lights, the kids said their goodnights, and I stayed up for a little while longer, staring at that tree. I went to bed with a sigh and knowing that everything’s going to be alright.

I walked by the gigantic, garish Christmas tree at the top of Session Road the other night. It felt empty and soul-less. It just didn’t have that same magic our humble tree had. Could it be the design? The amount of money spent?

None of that. I believe it’s all about the intention of the one who put up the tree – that, everyone can see and feel.