My Christmas tree tells a story about my life.
Hand-picked ornaments and heirloom decorations link me to a past that’s been earmarked on an annual basis. Other than photos, I can’t think of anything else that depicts as much of me and my life as what lies within those large cardboard boxes marked “Xmas.”
Grandma and Grandpa’s Santa planter, for instance, is one of my most treasured Christmas decorations, a deep connection to loved ones who’ve moved on to higher places . . .
Among those gone, my Dad who on occasion was Garfield-like in his grumpiness but who, in his heart, always wanted to fly. I imagine you flying high now, Dad, with Garfield and all your feline pets formerly here on earth by your side.
Topping off my tree is an old-fashioned star to remind me of the simple, happy Christmas’s of my youth . . .
Of kites and rocking horses, hopes and dreams . . .
Reminders abound of the true meaning of Christmas, the pure innocence of the newly born Christ child, a symbol of hope in a hope-challenged world . . .
Some ornaments cause me to reflect on the sacrifices made by our Firefighters who earned their wings on 9/11 and who continue to do so each and every day–the ultimate human display of unselfishness and compassion for others . . .
Thanks to all who protect us–our firefighters, our police officers, our men and women in the military, and the countless individuals who go unnoticed behind the scenes (you know who you are). Because of you, we live in a more hopeful world now where planes are once again fantastical flying machines and Santa is once again real . . .
and New York City is a happier place (just ask the Rockettes!) . . .
Somehow in the last four years, hope and love have found their way back into my life . . .
Together, my love and I built a teardrop trailer and have traveled to beautiful, serene places where we often feel we’re just inches away from God . . .
This past week, my love and I sat by a fire and cross-stitched our names onto Christmas stockings. We couldn’t help but shake our heads and smile, visions of our journey so far and what the future might bring, all dancing in our heads.
That’s my story, and I wouldn’t change a bit of it, not one bit. What story does your tree tell?
Merry Christmas, Everyone!