Cliff Morrow recently suggested that we write something about a holiday gone bad. His story is good enough for the lead-in before the movie, Christmas Vacation. Be sure to read his misadventures. Then I read a good post by Donna who waxed nostalgic after putting up her tree a little too early this year. Both of their posts reminded me of our Holiday Gone Bad.
It all started in the Spring of 2002 when our home burned down and almost everything we owned burned up.
Getting our lives back together again went along smoothly. In fact, the first three weeks after the fire was the best time of our marriage. In a few months, we were back to “normal.” God bless American insurance.
Before long, along came Thanksgiving 2002. We hosted our family Thanksgiving get-together because we were so thankful for life and health and pleasure and family and all that stuff. We had a Thanksgiving to remember. Nichols of all sizes, shapes and ages showed up. Lots of kids, grandkids, in-laws and out-laws came for a great day of feasting and blessings.
Late that night My First Wife and I fell into bed exhausted but content. God blesses.
Just as I was leaving the twilight zone and entering the Sleep of the Deep, Chancie asked, "You know what we need to get, Honey?" She's always thinking, even in the dark.
"Hhnk?" I answered, a half a breath away from snoring.
"A Christmas tree. We haven't got any Christmas decorations. We need everything."
What's Christmas without a Christmas tree? In the rush-rush of that season, we had a hard time finding a tree that we liked; artificial or real. And the thought of dragging a big tree into the house without our family ornaments to put on it made my shoulders slump.
Just a day or two before Christmas we came upon a little two-foot ditty that we purchased for a few coins. I also bought 24 little golden ornaments. We plunked everything on a corner table. Charlie Brown had nothing on us. The tree-ette was up and decorated in 10 minutes.
But where were the little baked, hand-painted angels that our Kindergarteners so proudly gave? What happened to the paper-plate angel that came from an Age 5 Sunday School class? And the multi-colored paper chain that we all made on a popcorn night when everybody got to use the scissors? There used to be toy soldiers made of pipe cleaners and an angel twisted from a coat hanger. We had special bows with names and dates. We had a little Nativity scene. It wasn't much, but…
All of those things we discovered again and again, year after year, and hung them with tender memories.
On the lonely night of the two-foot ditty, nobody spilled any hot cocoa in front of that little tree. We didn't have strings of lights to untangle. The dog's tail didn't wag the bowl of nuts off the coffee table. There was no giggling or laughter or jumping on the couch. There wasn't any scattered glitter to vacuum. You couldn’t smell any baking cookies. There were no icicles strung all over the house.
Well, times change—and thank the Lord for grandchildren. They help us set up and light up our neat new ceramic Christmas Village now.
"That's cool," they admire. "At our house, all we have is a Christmas tree."
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