We headed out to our little land in search of the perfect Christmas tree. Luis had cleared most of the land already, all except a small section that was full of pine trees. He knows how much I love Christmas. He knows I love to have a real tree. Jonathan was at a friends house, and this was Josh's last full day at home. I was disappointed that we weren't all together. Nonetheless, Josh, Lily and I headed to the land where Luis was already waiting. I started to look at the trees, and they all looked like Southern Pines. Tall skinny trunks with few branches and long soft needles. Definitely not the Douglas Fir that I had stuck in recesses of my imagination. It was an unrealistic desire. We do, after all, live in the Upstate of South Carolina. After about a minute of looking, I had already decided that our perfect tree wasn't to be found on our land. I somehow managed to convince Josh of the same thing, without even saying a word. Moms have a way of doing that, you know. Then, I saw Lily emerge from a small group of trees with a smile on her face.
With a matter-of-fact grin and her hands on her hips, she announced that she found our tree. I half-heartedly strolled toward her, trying to muster up some kind of enthusiasm. As I walked closer, I noticed that tucked in the middle of a group of Southern Pines, was another pine tree that I hadn't seen before. I wasn't exactly sure what kind of pine it was, but I could tell that Lily was certain it was the one...and she had managed to convince Luis. Daddys' little girls have a way of doing that too, you know. Luis fired up the chainsaw and we watched the tree fall. Still doubtful, I watched Luis drag the tree out and stand it upright. It definitely had potential. At least more potential than the other trees.
We decided to bring it home and give it a try. The kids and I hopped in my car and went home to prepare the living room for the tree.
It is probably hard to tell from the picture, but this tree is 12 feet tall. That's even after Luis cut about three feet off the bottom. It actually has two trunks and two tips. It has a bare spot and we probably trimmed too many lower branches off. But this tree was meant to be ours. Truth be told, this tree reminds me of my little family. We're a little different. Sometime we don't look like everyone around us. At times we have been overlooked, passed by, misjudged. That can hurt more that we let on. We have had "bare spots"...times that felt like we weren't going to make it financially, emotionally and probably a ton of other adverbs you want to chuck in there. Then there are those times when we remember that we are chosen, and we stand tall, even if we are leaning slightly, even if we might fall completely down once in a while.
An old friend wrote recently about how we often only let people see what we want them to see. We photoshop the flaws, crop out the chaos, apply the filter that puts us in the best light. But what if we were just real? What if we let people see how we struggle, how we blow it at times, how we fail? Maybe then we wouldn't feel like we always miss "the mark" because the mark we are trying to live up to might not even be real.
So here it is...our perfectly imperfect Christmas tree. Right where it belongs in the middle of my livingroom. Reminding me that life isn't perfect, but beauty can still be found in imperfection.
