My husband’s idea to perhaps rethink the real vs artificial tree conversation was met with opposition and disapproval by me!
A woman discovers the true Spirit of Christmas beyond the branches of a glistening tree.
“For to us a child is born, to us a Son is given, and the government will be on
his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6
I tend to be a tad stubborn when it comes to change. So when Gilles suggested we shift our Christmas tradition, I wasn’t a happy camper, as you will find out in my story, “The Christmas Forest” (pg. 128).
I had enjoyed the tradition of a live Christmas tree all my life, even though along with the aromatic and aesthetic advantage, there came prickly pine needles, watering chores and wrestling matches with the laws of physics. But no way was I going to fall into the trap of hoisting a fake tree into our familiar old tree stand (inherited from my parents). I loved having a real tree at Christmas. And our children had only known this tradition, too. What was he thinking?
So he dropped the idea. Smart man.
Then life happened. Years passed. The children grew. And, as I relate in my story, God gave me a new perspective on Christmas; a perspective that would change my attitude, my focus and my thoughts about tightly-knit traditions and what we truly should be celebrating.
When N. J. Lindquist, our fearless editor, put a call out for submissions to this great Christmas with Hot Apple Cider anthology, my mind drifted towards this story, which until then had been written only in my head.
I have been writing ‘slice of life; down-home’ stories for years. One of the greatest compliments I receive as a writer is when someone, after reading my words, says, “I know exactly how you feel. I can so relate!” And I know I’m not the only one with stories. I sure do appreciate, though, the privilege of being invited to share my words along with so many other talented writers, in Christmas with Hot Apple Cider.
I’m hoping that people can relate to “The Christmas Forest”—not necessarily to the real vs alternative tree situation—but more so to the importance of the miraculously astounding magnificence of what Christmas is truly about and how the focus should not be on having a perfect tree, a perfect celebration, or a perfect tradition. Instead, this time of the year we should concentrate on how a Perfect Babe filled us with the real Spirit of the season—as happened once we chose an accurate attitude of celebration, which involved so much more than me fussing over a tree.
Traditions are lovely, but as a Christian I can’t let anything I do at Christmas obscure God’s plan for humankind—the sending of a Perfect Child, a breath-takingly beautiful Babe who came to redeem the world. Now that’s something worth celebrating, tree or no tree!
Like the last line in my story says, “Maybe I should have listened to my husband sooner.”
Glynis Belec, an award-winning children’s author, freelance writer, and custom publisher, faces each day with hope and thanksgiving. Her publishing company, Angel Hope Publishing, keeps her busy. If she’s not helping someone else realize their publishing dream, she’s catching up on some of her own projects. Two recent books are Jesus Loves Me When I Dance and Good Grief People. Glynis lives in a small southern Ontario town with nearly two thousand mostly happy people!
It was fun to see the photos related to your Christmas tree forest. I had tried to visualize them.
A live tree was very important to me. When I was first living away from home in a bed-sitting room, I HAD to have the smell of a real Christmas tree. it sat right beside the davenport on which I slept, held up by chair on its side and decorated with tin decorations I’d made from tin can lids. I had to get up around it to go downstairs to the common bathroom. No matter! I had a REAL tree.
Dad had spent much of his childhood on the farm. A fresh-cut, floor-to-ceiling tree was the only way to go. The year that I first came home to an artificial tree brought a real shock, but Dad could no longer cope with the contortions required to set up a real tree. What made me particularly sad was that poor Dad, in his desire to keep the traditional Christmas tree smell, had sprayed pine deodorizer lavishly on the tree. At that time, it smelled only like a car’s pine smell deodorizer. We made all the right noises, but the change definitely required an adjustment.