“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” — Norman Vincent Peale
The day after Thanksgiving, it's time. For as long as I can remember, it's the day the Christmas tree comes up, the day fairy lights are strung wherever there's an outlet, the day the paper snowman my sister and I made when we were nine is hung in our kitchen.
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Throughout the years, in the turbulence and in the calm, Christmas has been a treasured time of magic and memories. It's breathing in the aroma of pine and cinnamon and vanilla. It's sipping eggnog by a fire. It's falling asleep to the movies that make your heart warm. It's the glow of street lamps in puddles on the pavement. It's eating pie for breakfast and cereal at midnight. It's spontaneous visits that turn into overnight stays. It's icing cookies and licking frosting and eating extra slices of cake.
If I was a Christmas tree, what would I think of life?
Every year, our Christmas trees have been with us, through good times and bad times. They've been there during days of abundance, when presents spilled out from under their branches, and during days of despair, when there was nothing where the gifts should have been. They were there when we danced in their sparkling glow and they were there when all we could do is cling to each other in the silence.
If Christmas trees could talk, I think this is what they would say. Our Christmas trees see the bliss and wonder and beauty in life. They see the laughter and love and affection that keeps our families together. They see the precious moments that make this life, as chaotic and unpredictable as it is, worth living.
I want to look at life like a Christmas tree might. Every day, I want to see the cherished moments that make life so perfectly imperfect and love every second of it.
