With minimal snow and frozen fields, little Chloe and I were able to head back to various hot spots and find our family Christmas tree.
This annual trek to the bush is a family tradition, some years with three generations in tow.
Perched up in the back seat of our old pickup, we got a thumbs-up sign and a bit of a squeal of delight as Chloe looked out the window to see this year’s tree.
It sat on a hillside, soon to be overshadowed by other trees. Often we look for a case like that, honouring another farm tradition of letting better trees have space to grow.
Later that afternoon, after the traditional sawing of the tree and family photos with the kids, the tree was in the living room ready to decorate. Lights and ornaments were hung with care. Many drinks of water have kept it green and cheerful looking.
Like most families today however, times are busy.
Moms and dads almost always seem to work and kids run from one event to the other. In between these times, Chloe wondered aloud about the tree topper, and when that might go on. It was a conversation we quickly side-stepped.
There is a bit of a story that goes along with our topper, which must be a new term we missed along the way.
It is now quite old, probably closing in on 50 years of age. Its plastic angelic shape is still intact but the bright gold trim has long lost its luster.
The soft cloud material fastened to its base is less fluffy than it once was and it is showing its age too. But, her eyes shine bright blue still, especially when the lights are on.
The banter about her imperfect appearance and the need for something new and better erupts now and again. It however, is one of those traditions we are intent on keeping as a reminder of the merits of family and where we have been.
Our Christmas angel has seen much. She has seen the joy that sparkles in a child’s eyes, entirely caught up in the lights and sounds of the season.
She too has seen the modesty of a parent intent on making Christmas merry with limited means. She has seen simplicity and good cheer replaced in many ways by rushed visits, complexity and the noise of gadgets not even dreamt of years ago.
Our Christmas angel stands vigil on what has been and what will be, even if that task is only a few weeks each year.
Her tales of jubilation and sacrifice within our family will be no different than those found in countless other homes across the country. The common denominator – rich, poor or downtrodden – is family; a tradition all parents hope and pray to keep well.
And very soon, Chloe, the angel will take her rightful spot at the top of the tree when our whole family gets together for Christmas 2013.
Merry Christmas, Wellington.
