January 6. Epiphany—the day I like to wait for before taking down the Christmas tree. Driving around town, I noticed it seems to be the day for town square trees to come down, too.
I grew up in a family that put up a tree the day after Thanksgiving and left it standing until well into January. The year we got a new, artificial tree (before pre-lit ones came on the scene), my dad spent hours wrapping 21 strands of white lights around each branch (and even in a way—if memory serves—that would allow the tree to be taken apart with the strands still on to be put away for the next year). He lamented that he would never do that again and hoped we would enjoy the illuminated masterpiece.
We certainly did. That year my mom decorated it for New Year’s—with colorful party streamers and balloons. Next came a Valentine’s tree with red and pink hearts, a St. Patrick’s Day theme, and a spring/Easter masterpiece. The Memorial Day/July 4th/Olympics rendition was patriotic and festive, with gold medals, flags, and red, white and blue streamers. Fall’s topiary was especially stunning—gorgeous golden leaves and wheat sprays. Then…the day after Thanksgiving, the Christmas ornaments went back on.
Interesting were the comments NOT made by visitors to the house about the perpetual tree. Twinkling in all its grandeur in the middle of the living room, it often went unnoticed (or at least ignored) from friends who didn’t know what to say. Others still remember with laughter the Nunn’s lighted tree and the wackiness of it.
That next year, I recall the Christmas decorations stayed on all 12 months. Somewhere in there I went off to college and started working ½ way across the country from home—taking with me those ornaments collected that were ‘mine’ and marked special events and memories throughout my life:
- The “Wizard of Oz” characters from the year each family member dressed as one for a party. Dad was the lion, Mom the scarecrow, Kristin—Dorothy, and I—the tin man.
- The little wooden man from my summer as an exchange student in Switzerland.
- Myriad reindeer, dancers, and Santas made from decorated clothespins in Girl Scouts or craft classes.
Each Christmas I added ornaments given by friends at tree-trimming parties I hosted after moving into a new home and inviting friends to gather round. Still have the quirky frog from Tim, the beautiful stained glass piece from Robin, and the etched orb from Melissa & Dale.
Memories of friends, love, and faith covered my tree. Like Mary in the Christmas story, I treasured these in my heart…as they reminded me of connections, conversations, commitments, and community.
Our first Christmas after getting married, Scott gave me a tree charm to remember it. One of the sweetest things.
The arrival of our two boys brought more treasures to our life—delicate ornaments commemorating their first Christmases in our family. Then the cotton-covered hand prints to shape a little lamb and glitter-encrusted pine cones hung by a string of red yarn. We’ve celebrated the tradition every year of getting out the decorations, reading stories of Mary and Joseph and Jesus’ birth. The tree goes up…last year with the help of the boys, Nat King Cole and hot cocoa. But this year…the tree never found its way to its usual spot. 
All of the other decorations were in place—twinkle-y garland, Advent calendars, the crèche, and nativity snow globe. Time and life’s twists seemed to set the tree aside.
I was feeling frustrated and winsome and considered getting it all out and up by myself after the boys were in bed one night. But I never did. Sure, we had the little white tree covered in gingerbread treats all gussied up for the gingerbread house decorating party we have every year with a few families. There’s the tiny tree in the boys’ room, But those aren’t “the” Christmas tree.
I thought about why putting up the big tree was so important—what the trimming experience meant for my family…what it meant for me. I realize we had done a lot of the ‘things’ in my mind that made for making memories. The boys had begun to appreciate their own ways—not just mine—of celebrating. They’re coming into their own. M’s top holiday décor request is outside lights. W likes the nutcrackers. Both like putting up the manger scene. They relish the gatherings with family and friends—yummy food and games played at table.
Turns out we did just fine this year without the big tree. Actually, I should say, “I” did just fine. No one else really took notice it wasn’t there. We had a wonderful trip before the holidays and saw sparkling decorations galore. We talked by the fire. We made hot chocolate with marshmallows, whipped cream, and peppermint sticks. We danced to Christmas carols. We celebrated the joys of Advent and awaiting the Christ child. I felt -slightly- less harried. Now that it’s “time” to take it all down, there’s less to “do.” More time to talk and savor. Fewer boxes to haul up and down from the attic.
Maybe next year I’ll hang a few of my treasured ornaments and memories on a mantel garland, like my friend Luci does. Or, maybe we’ll make new memories and enjoy those together and in the years to come.
