The Most Beautiful of Christmas Trees

This morning, my sons (ages 7 and 13) came to me and asked for permission to decorate the house for Christmas by themselves. It’s a few days early for us, we usually put up the tree on Gaudete Sunday, but I looked at those eager hopeful faces and couldn’t say no.

Within a half hour, they’d dragged the boxes into the front room and begun digging through them.

They moved the furniture around and began with the tree.

They caught me taking pictures and shooed me from the room saying, “We want you to be surprised!”

I hung out in the kitchen, mixing sugar cookies, reading a book, and fighting off the urge to peek.

An hour or so later, the 13-year-old asked, “Is it okay if we change things? Like…can we pull them apart and redo them?” My inner control freak said no, but I don’t like her, so I said yes instead. He grabbed the wire cutters, scissors, and my cordless glue gun and practically skipped from the room exclaiming, “She said ‘Yes!'”

As I got ready to leave for the gym this evening, I was under strict instructions to cover my eyes. “This is our Christmas present for you, Mom. No peeking!”

I came home to a decorated house.

The elder boy had poured his heart and creativity into the mantle, gathering pictures, knick-knacks, and a string of lights from elsewhere in the house. He clearly had a vision of how our house should look once it was properly dressed.

His 10-year-old sister crafted a wreath to hang over the mirror in our front hall.

And then there was the tree — lopsided, half-decorated, not-completely covered with lights tree. A tree surrounded by bouncing ecstatic little boys.

The 13-year-old had  put his younger brothers completely in charge of the tree once he’d  assembled it and strung the lights. They’d placed the ornaments where they wanted, and left off the boring ones that “don’t belong on a fun tree.”

Their eyes sparkled as they pointed out that  all of my “favorite ornaments” were right up front. They’d made a point of showcasing the ones I’d made in my own childhood as well as the ones that they and their siblings had made for me. They’d put it together with me in mind. There was no way to describe that imperfect tree than as a gift of perfect love. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen one that was more lovely.

Tonight, as I’m curled up in the chair beside the most beautiful Christmas tree ever, I am amazed at how perfectly they have chosen a gift for their mother. They gave me a gift of their own time and creativity, and thought long and hard about how to make it beautiful. Then, as if that’s not already enough, my son handed me my phone with the pictures already taken. All that was left for me to do was sit here and enjoy it all, and know how well and truly I am loved.