The Waving Tree

The Search for the Family Tree

We returned to the Christmas tree farm we had used two years prior to tag our tree. My children now, men according to age reminded me of the cell phone debacle back then. At some point during our traipsing and traversing, my cell phone fell from my pocket and was lost in a sea of pine needles and baby trees.

The tree farm was full of acres of beautiful trees waiting to be chosen. For those of you who feel the barbarism of cutting down a tree in its prime for a few weeks of decoration and celebration, I am sorry we do not share the same perspective. While that is a fact, I feel there are two sides to each situation or story. Here is what I choose to think:

 

The tree wishes for the ride home where the wind blows through its boughs at a spectacular speed.

The tree enjoys shelter from the elements.

The tree wants to be warmed by the fire.

The tree wants to have treasured ornaments of moments to grace its branches.

The tree proudly holds precious memories of births and travel excursions.

The tree protects the gifts we share with one another to honor the births of the savior who shelters and protects us from the elements.

 

Here is a spur of the moment attempt at rationalizing this with a poem:

 

When the holiday season,

has come and gone,

the tree has another reason…

To the sand dunes to rest upon.

 

The tree provides shelter

As the wind piles up the sand,

It becomes the dunes helper

To rebuild the land.

 

It is not so sad

To recycle your tree

It is not so bad

To reuse your tree.

 

Just where is the tree meant to be?

The purpose of the God given tree is to be praised by you and me.

How that occurs depends on your perspective,

And how you choose to respect it.

 

We searched high and low for the perfect tree. My husband found one for a bazillion dollars that he was willing to buy. Mind you this is a ridiculous price, but he never buys anything for himself, ever. This is his one splurge of the year, so before you go judge this man, know that he put in a hundred hours a week, handed out bonuses to his staff and took less pay than the rest. He is a giver, this tree is his bonus to himself and a gift for all of us.

 

We passed by the tree that would eventually be the tree we chose. I saw it standing alone by itself. It looked like no other tree in the field. It was tall, it was thin. The branches we funky. The arms curled up and at the ends almost as if they were palms open in prayer to the Gods above. I loved it at first sight. I loved it for its differences. I loved it for its modest height even though it towered over the other trees. He seemed to hang out in a field of other misfits. It was a field of trees that had been looked over and left behind. I saw it though.

 

I paused to look up at this magical praying tree. “How about this one?” I asked my son.

“Nah,” said the teenager.

“Look at its cool branches.” I tried.

“Nah, It’s weird. I’m not feeling it,” said the same college freshman.

“I think it’s perfect, tall and skinny, it won’t take up too much room.” I tried to convince him, or myself?

He walked off. Instead of me thinking he was being rude to walk off, I chose to take it as a kind gesture that silently said, no thanks Mom. He had been politely honest.

 

I moved on and followed them to a grove of close-knit trees a few feet away. We hemmed and hawed over multiple trees that were all underqualified, not ready to be sawed down. At one point, the family pack broke free and through the grove, one yelled! How about this one? I found the tree. I was annoyed for once because every year, they find the tree before me. It seems as though the debates were done, and we were going home with that one, the short fat one.

 

I had lost track of my direction, suffered from disorientation as I ducked under the boughs, following the voices of my beloved people. They stood in front of the tallest most spectacular specimen of a tree. One branch significantly reached awkwardly out to wave hello as if to say, here I am, over here! We answered the call, and we all pointed out to the lone upper left branch. We stood in silence.

“Is it tagged?” It had to be. We were so late everything had already been tagged. Who would have looked this majestic beauty over, unless the ragged one arm tree was too ugly to be seen?

 

“It has a tag!” yelled my son and my heart sank. It’s a price tag!! My heart soared to the top of this waving tree.

“How much?” I mumbled to myself, priceless. Please don’t let it be $700. There really was a tree for hat much. He yelled out the number. That is a bargain for sure! The cost is in the eye of the beholder as is beauty. This tree was beautiful with its boughs open in prayer and one branch waving us in. That’s a good deal. That’ll do tree. I silently watched my family circle my tree. This is our tree. Call for Kian, come let’s all tag our tree!

 

We got one photo of all of us in front of the tree. I will cherish this one for years to come. I did not lose my phone.

 

The tree we chose was the tree I found. I had to wait for the tree to convince my family that she was theirs. I humbly accepted she was not wanted at first, and I chose to walk away and look at others. But when the time came, we grabbed her back again. My PFD or purpose for doing lately lies in keeping the peace, not forcing my will upon others, for HIS will come to light. My crew got on board with this fantastic tree.

 

I sent an email to the owner several days prior to our pickup letting her know when we would be there to get our tree. I received a phone call the next day by the owner, an energized woman in her eighties. She acknowledged my email and told me that we had gotten a good deal on the tree. The price tag was from the previous year, and she couldn’t understand how they had missed it. She wanted to share how special it was, but I already knew of course. I thanked her for allowing us to harvest the tree and assured her that we had the proper transportation to bring her home and the space to place the tree and honor it for a season.

 

We picked up our tree and while it hung over 11 feet off the back of the truck, my son had secured it properly.  I think the tree enjoyed a fun ride through the countryside. It took three of us, three generations of Duckworth’s to get her inside and up into her stand. My Dad, (Ducky), Myself (Duck) and my twenty-one-year-old also nicknamed Ducky by his friends. If she were any bigger, she would have endured a true tree trimming to get her in the house, but she just barely fit. My son and I trimmed her which white lights. I placed ornaments halfway up the tree trying not to topple as I reached my highest in my 5’ 9 frame. We measured her at seventeen and half feet and I have no idea how she will come down. I hope she likes football and Hallmark movies! For now, she waves at me while I write this story by the fire.

 

She is by far the best Christmas tree ever (we say that every year!)

Photos are taken to remember,

because tree will disappear.

around the end of December,

To her second act where she will soon

rest on the beach and rebuild the dunes.

Yes, those are my feet:) It is Christmas Eve now and my son just came down the stairs to eat a bowl of cereal and admire the tree. We both agree that pictures don’t do it justice. I will remember this moment forever.

Merry Christmas Tree!