A Christmas Tree Story

I'm 59 years old and have never had a

store-bought Christmas tree.  When I was

a boy in Georgia, pine trees cut on our own

land were the norm.  In my adult life, Judy 

and I usually opted for cedars, which are

more suitably shaped and more readily 

available around here.

This year, thanks to a thoughtful gift some

13 years ago, we have our very first Virginia

Spruce tree.  13 years ago was when Katie gave

me a live tree for a Christmas present.  I planted

it near the edge of our property and watched it

grow.  I never intended to cut it, hoping it would

make a nice little buffer between us and our

neighboring daycare center (not that's there's

anything wrong with that).

But circumstances made this the year for

it to become our Christmas tree.  Another

year and it would have been too big.  And

sometime I'll tell you why I couldn't just 

leave it alone.  So here I am with my trusty,

dull saw, as Judy captures the moment.

If I knew anything about pruning, I could

have shaped this into the perfect tree over

the last 13 years (by the way-- 13 has always

been my lucky number).  But if it were

perfect, it wouldn't be right for US!

Shortly, it became the official

Loyd Eclectic Christmas Tree of 2012.

It's 9 feet tall.  I cut it off at ground level

and didn't have to trim the top at all.

So I guess it is perfect, after all!

Katie's gift has always made me think of

 a very special Christmas story I used to read

 to my classes: The Twelfth Night Trouble.

The basic story is about a little girl named

Mary Berry who loved her Christmas tree

very, very much.  But when it was time for

the tree to come down on Twelfth Night, she

became Poor Mary Berry, the saddest little

girl around.  This also saddened everyone

who loved her: her mother, her daddy, and

. . . Santa Claus!

Santa's brilliant solution is to bring

her a small live tree that she can love

and nurture for years and years.

And that was enough for a typical

happy ending.  But it's not the ending!

The part of the story that sets it apart

for me, and brings tears to my eyes is

this.  Many years later, a little old lady--

yes, a grandmother-- gathers her scores

of grandchildren.  They stand under the

tall and stately tree that has grown for

many years outside her door.  

And the children beg her and beg her to

tell once again the story of the tree.

"It all starts with when 

I was Poor Mary Berry. . ."

Our little tree didn't get to grow as

tall as Mary Berry's.  But we will never

forget this special tree and this special

year.  Trees always tell a story, if we pay

attention.  They have a legacy, even if

they are used for firewood, or for building

furniture or a home.  As human beings we,

too, have a legacy.  We have stories to share.

The generations that follow us need to know

more than ever there's more to life than eat,

work, sleep, and start all over again.

They need to hear from us that we are created

with a purpose by a heavenly Father who loved

us so much He sent his Son to be our Savior.

Without the coming of Jesus, we'd have no story

to tell and no Christmas to celebrate.

But we DO, and that is the best part of my

Christmas tree story.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

GOD BLESS YOU!