Ivan and I went down into the basement and attempted to find the Christmas tree. Staying true to my unorganized self, every bit of Christmas decorations (including the tree) were scattered everywhere. After several trips up and down the stairs bringing anything Christmas related I could find up, I realized that the all important nap time had come and gone. In fact, the kids would be getting off the bus in a few minutes. I hurried to put together our old, rusty Christmas tree. And before I knew it, I heard the bus and the sound of four kids running and screaming excitedly to come home.
And that's when it hit me- my idea of having a perfect afternoon of decorating the Christmas tree was out the door. The kids all came running inside- they dropped their backpacks and rushed into the living room. "OK, guys," I said, trying to get some order in how to decorate the tree, "let's just each take one thing at a time and put it on the tree." I truly believe that those words I spoke were never heard. Within minutes, Aylah had found some horrific Christmas music and started blasting it, ribbons and ornaments were flying all around, candy canes from who knows how many years ago were entering slobbery mouths.
For one moment, I thought about what it would be like if this Christmas tree decorating was different. If I had hot chocolate to sip, if I was listening to Dean Martin and not the Chipmunks, if all of the ornaments were pretty and things that were never meant to go on a Christmas tree weren't being shoved on by sticky hands. Defeated, I grabbed the laundry basket and went into the kids's room to put away their clothes.
I was folding their laundry when I heard the voice of an angel singing, "Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, the little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head." I looked up to see Malachi, my man child, singing Away in a Manger. And he wasn't just singing those words- he meant it. Tears filled my eyes. Seeing this boy- my child on the brink of becoming a man- sing such sweet words about the true meaning of Christmas, hit me like a ton of bricks. And I thought, how many more years will I get the chaos of decorating the Christmas tree? How many more years will I have of having a tree that turns out looking like an elementary school art project? Yes, one day, one day too soon, I'll have my pretty ornaments and ribbons, I'll have my Dean Martin and hot chocolate, but could that ever compare to the joy of my sweet children decorating a tree the best they know how?
I put the laundry down and hugged my boy. Together we walked back into the loudness of the living room. Little bodies were now twirling around to Christmas music. "Mom, Mom! Look at the tree! Look what we've done." "Wow!", I said. "It's amazing!" And I didn't just see a Christmas tree. I saw the most beautiful tree I've ever seen.
