Christmas from My Point of View
When I was in seminary, many years ago, I was asked to write a story for our congregation’s Christmas festival for families. There was music, arts and crafts projects, cookie making, singing carols, and me telling a story near the end of the event. Somewhere there is a photo of me dressed as talking Christmas tree telling this story. So I wrote, with an inspirational hat tip to Dr. Seuss and Charles Shultz, Christmas from My Point of View. Not a very good title for a talking Christmas tree story, but over the years I’ver returned to it and thought it would make an interesting children’s book one day of which I’m working on self publishing for next year. You are welcomed to use the story, but please please add this credit, “An original work written by Rev. Michael Davison, Dec 1987. Published at Davison’s Doodle, Dec 2012.”
Christmas from My Point of View
For the next several minutes I want you to use your imagination with me. I want you to imagine that you are a Christmas tree. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a Christmas tree?
Here I am on the Christmas tree lot with other bigger, fuller, more fancy trees. Here I sit just little ol’ me. I ama fur tree not some old sticky scotch pine. Not many people like fur trees because we don’t have may limbs and I guess you could say that I am kinda skinny. Here I sit on the lot wondering if I will be bought.
Three weeks to Christmas. I have no fear that someone will come along who will appreciate my beauty and cheer. Two weeks to Christmas. I am starting to loose some of my needles. “Hey buddy!” I shout at the guy running the Christmas tree lot. “Hey buddy, come over here and turn me so that people can’t see my bare places. I’m embarrassed.” Hey, there comes some interesting prospects maybe they will want me. Stand up straight and a tall. Get those branches out, needles forward, trunk straight . . . wow does this hurt. They are stopping for a look. No it the tree next to me. No, wait they are looking at me. “Chase, look at this tree.” “Yes, I guess it is ok. I don’t know. It’s kind of scrawny and it doesn’t have many branches.” “Amy, look at this one over here.” And there they go to buy one of those thicker trees.
One week to Christmas. I loose more needles, and it is harder to get my branches to stand up. What’s worse is that they have stuck me over here in the looser section of the tree lot. Once you get put over here they have decided that you are not going to sell. Guess I have to start accepting that its the fire pit for me sooner rather than later.
It is cold and there are only three of us left. Me the fur. The short scotch pine that is lob-sided a bit, and this tall giant blue spruce, into no one’s car will he fit. The tree salesman begins to close up early because there is no point staying open when your trees look like us. I am laying over to one side now. My needles are almost all gone. I am weak and tired.
Suddenly, in front of me appears a family who want to look at me. They stand me up and turn me around to see that my needles have fallen to the ground. They are talking to the salesman. “This one will be just fine. How much?” The salesman says, “Well, this one has been here a while so how about ten bucks?” In a blur the thing I know I being tied to the roof of a car. Now I am in a stand. Now water, oh good tasting water. There is a pause and a decision at hand . . . where to put the tree?
Well of course you know. In the front window I must go. So here, cleaned up, watered and feeling quite good I’m waiting for all the boxes of ornaments, lights upon lights, boxes of balls, the big ones and small ones, all colorful and shiny. The tinsel and glitter that you find behind the couch even when it is Easter. I’m waiting!
But something is different here. These people don’t have a lot. Matter of fact there is only one box. A box of average size that could hold a great deal, but it wouldn’t be something anyone would steal. The water helps lift my spirit, but I am realizing that I am going to be half decorated. The family that bought me didn’t have a lot and I thought, “I will be naked, bare. What do I look like from the street? Will people come from far and near to see my decoration? What will the neighbors think? I wonder how my friend the scotch pine and giant have been treated?
They decorated and tinseled me and I put up with it most of the time. When they unwrapped the star to set on top, I bent my trunk so it wouldn’t be straight. My trunk hurt too much to hold it for long. They turned off the lights and stood back in awe. Honestly, I wasn’t the best looking tree from the start and the ornaments didn’t help much. There was a paper plate angle with a crooked smile that the youngest had made, and then there was this elf looking dude who was coming unglued. Is that popcorn on a string? The lights are hot, and some were missing their color, so old they could blow a fuse any moment. Here I sit in this window just barely decorated with the meager, worthless things.
It is Christmas morning now and I have put up with all these simple decorations. The presents weren’t as many as I expected there to be, but it doesn’t seem to matter to this family. It is early and I am rudely awakened by the oldest boy. He turns my lights on. They are so bright because many of my needles have fallen off. I look down to the sight of this small boy gazing up at me with wide eyes full of life. He just sits in the floor starring up at me. So, I look around to see what there was to see . . . funny it is just me. Me and my homemade ornaments. Nothing else. He didn’t go for the presents under the tree. Instead he just sat and watched not making a sound. I have nothing on me worth looking at: no flash, no glitter, not even fake snow. I wondered what is so special that makes him look at me so? All the stuff that I thought made a Christmas tree special were not here. Why was I so special?
I heard something I could not quite make out. I listened close. Softly, squeaky words that can up from the floor. The little boy was singing. “Oh Christmas tree, oh christmas tree, of all the trees most lovely.” Singing to me? “Each year you bring to me delight, meaning in the Christmas night, Oh Christmas tree, oh christmas tree, of all the trees most lovely.” Is there something about me? Is it the Christmas season? Then I felt something. A kind of tickling, funny feeling and I looked to make sure it wasn’t the lights. It started at the bottom of my trunk. It crawled up and out on my branches and then out to my needles I almost wanted to scratch it. I haven’t felt like this since the day they took me off the truck at the Christmas tree lot. I was alive with something I hadn’t thought of before. Maybe Christmas isn’t glitter and flash? Maybe Christmas is something made to last?
So, here some advice from one Christmas tree to you. Share stories about family and friends, laugh, remember those not with you far and near. Instead of buying a lot of glitter and flash take some time and make something that’s made to last.