Sometimes I envy the pretty trees.
They tempt me to buy festive ribbon and coordinating ornaments and start from scratch. But I always stop short. Not that I won’t forever love the pretty trees. I may even stand in your home and ooh and aah over yours. But each time I contemplate moving things around and removing some not so perfect ornaments, I am reminded of the little hands that made them and excitedly placed them prominently in the front of the tree… all clustered together on one branch 🙂
Though my not-quite-pretty tree would never make it into the pages of a magazine or a post on someone’s decorating blog, I will choose to enjoy it for what it is. It is pieces of our story.
It is a 5-year-old’s handprint on gold painted plaster.
It is clay cookie-cutter ornaments painted red and green.
It is a too big foam snowman and plastic Vikings candy canes.
It’s a baby’s first Christmas frame painted in a child’s strokes.
It is a porcelain wedding photo faded strangely orange, noodle snowflakes and nativity scenes made from popsicles sticks.
It is not pretty in a Martha Stewart kind of way, but when it’s dark outside and the white lights are flickering on the hodgepodge of trinkets hanging from little metal hooks, it is beautiful in a “this is my life” kind of way. And it is a wonderful life; regardless of what’s hanging from the tree.