Oh, Christmas Tree!

I love the Christmas season. The thought of my Lord coming to earth as a babe and offering His life a ransom for mankind gives me tingles up my spine and tears in my eyes. I can hardly wrap my brain around that kind of love.

So, it is with great enthusiasm I decorate my home. This year we put up our Christmas tree a little bit earlier than usual. My nineteen-year-old daughter Liz volunteered to help me find the perfect tree. We struck out early Friday morning and were disappointed to find the tree lot we usually go to was empty. Oh, well. There was another north of town we could look. Empty, too. I began to wonder if we were too early when we saw a car in the parking lot of Lowe’s with a tree strapped to the roof. We pulled into the lot and were delighted to find a sign advertising fresh trees.

As we walked into the garden center something magical happened. Both of us were immediately drawn to the same tree. The color was beautiful, the needles soft and pliable, it was full without being too broad at the bottom, and it smelled heavenly. I think it was even spotlighted by sunshine from an overhead skylight.

Oh, I guess I should tell you the last words my husband said when we left the house were, “Don’t get carried away.” With this in mind, we decided I would hold up the tree and Liz would make sure it was right for us. I pulled the tree into the aisle and Liz walked about ten feet away to get a good perspective. She clasped her hands to her chest and with a smile illuminating her face, exclaimed, “It’s perfect!” I asked her if it was too tall. “Oh, no. It’s perfect.” Yeah, I thought so too.

The attendant put the tree in plastic netting and strapped that baby to the roof of the car. When we arrived home the rest of the family came out to help us carry it in. We were so excited we almost didn’t notice their jaws just about hitting the ground.
“What were you thinking?”
“Huh?”
“That tree’s huge!”
“Really? I held it up to me, and Liz said it was perfect.”

Out of nowhere it seemed someone came out with a tape measure. 9 ½ feet—yikes. Did I mention I’m 5’4”? Thank God for volume ceilings and nine foot ladders.