Christmas Tree Meditation

We own a lot of Christmas ornaments. A lot. And every year we seem to have a pretty spindly tree. And yet, every year, the majority of the ornaments do find their way onto the tree. Each branch can't logically support as many ornaments as they are given. We usually lose one or two due to rough handling or the cats, but there are always newcomers to take their place. It's something like the "ornament cycle".

The tree always is mesmerizing. I love it. Tonight as I was getting ready to go to bed I caught a glance of the reflection of the lights. The next thing I knew, I was laying underneath the tree, feet and all. All was silent. All was calm. I stared up at the angel perched precariously on the top of the tree. When I was really little, I remember wondering if that was what my guardian angel looks like and how someone could make such a gorgeous, lifelike object without seeing a real angel. Maybe they did.

Then there was a ballerina doll with a white feathery skirt and blonde hair. Wherever we bought her, we had to bring her home in a suitcase. I wrapped her in the cheap hotel toilet paper and placed her right in the middle of all my clothes in the suitcase. I got so scared that she would crack and turn into a million tiny pieces as I watched the workmen heave all the luggage onto carts carelessly. When I opened up my suitcase, however, she was still there, all in one piece, as perfect as ever.

The little angel playing a harp that clipped on to the tree conjured a more recent memory just this past weekend when Megan and I decorated Kate's little tree with an entire realm of those little angles, all with different instruments, straight from Germany.

A church ornament made with holy dirt from Chimayo. The Make a Wish ornament from Genevieve just this year for my birthday. The tiny nativity scene that I got on my birthday four years ago from Aunt Ardell and Uncle Michael. A "baby's first Christmas" bear from someone I don't even know.

There were two ornaments that look exactly like gingerbread cookies in the shape of stars, with fake frosting that make it look so real you could almost eat it out of instinct. Those came from the St. Therese School Christmas fair in fourth grade. Just those last two words bring up an entire mesh of memories - another story for another day. I wondered how many other people have those same kind of ornaments hanging on their trees.

I must have been under the tree for awhile because when I got up again, kitten was asleep next to me and even mom and dad had retreated to their room.

The moral of this story? Well, if you want a good place to think and wonder, try the tree. But I think there's a deeper moral somewhere.



Merry Christmas.