Our Charlie Brown Tree

Year after year, throughout my childhood, my dad tried his best to talk us into getting a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Year after year he was out voted and we brought home magnificent trees, as tall as the house would permit, and perfectly shaped. Time has a way of making things like this become nostalgic for me, and I can't look at Charlie Brown trees without feeling a love for my dad and his silly preference.

About a month ago, Hubby and I were enjoying some time in a bookstore. The Charlie Brown Christmas story was on display. Because it was a favorite of my dad's it is a favorite of mine. Christmas practically isn't Christmas without a viewing of the Charlie Brown Christmas story. Strangely enough, I'd never seen it as a book and so I picked it up and read through the story, so familiar. 

While I was reading, the symbolism of the Charlie Brown tree hit me. How did I miss this, all these years? I wondered. Suddenly, I realized, I am the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. My dad is the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. We are all that tree. We are all small and weak and broken. Then Christmas came. Christ came. The Miracle happened. He took us all, small and weak and broken though we were, and he made it possible for us to become so much more. He makes us beautiful. He makes us enough. 

As per tradition we went and bought a tree this year. A tall one. With a perfect shape. And it died. For whatever reason it didn't want the water we gave it, and it dried up. It was one static-electricity spark away from flames, so it had to go. I was sad that we weren't going to have a tree to place presents under this year. Then, I was at Hobby Lobby this weekend and all their Christmas decorations were 50% off. There, standing small and brave in the shadows of tall and perfectly shaped trees, was a Charlie Brown tree. I couldn't pass it up. I just couldn't. I found one giant red bulb to go with it, and this is our tree this year.

Strangely, this small and sparse tree has brought me more joy this year than any of the other trees we have ever had. Every time I look at it I am reminded of the true meaning of Christmas. I am reminded that I am that tree and that because that tiny Babe, the Son of God, was born I can be made whole. 

I think our family may have a new tradition when it comes to Christmas trees.