The Christmas Tree

We put up the tree. It is our usual day after Thanksgiving ritual. We put up the indoor Christmas decorations on that Friday and usually try to put up the outdoor ones on Saturday.

Our daughter is 12. Every year since she was born, we have bought a new ornament for her. When she was a baby we bought the Baby's First Christmas and Baby's Second Christmas ornaments. Those are the ones with her baby pictures in them. After that she has picked out her own each year. While finishing the shopping Friday afternoon, she remembered the ornament and we went into one final store to get it.

While putting the ornaments on the tree, she remarked how her interests had changed over the years. The ornaments started with the Disney Princess ones, moved to Powerpuff Girls, then to Bratz. Her ornament this year is the word "Dreams" in big, glitzy, blue block letters. At first glance, it does not even look like an ornament. She chose this one because she is really involved in music, drama and the theatre. We have been encouraging her to dream and work to make the dreams come true.

I noticed that the tree is not only a reflection of her, but it's a unique portrait of our entire family.

There are ornaments from places we've visited. There are a few ornaments from my or my wife's childhood. Some others were made in school art classes by our daughter. There are a few stragglers from a gift set given by a former employer. We each bought a few of the over-priced Hallmark ones for a year or two. As the ornaments sit in the box over the long year in the hot attic, some don't survive much longer than a few years. I picked up one mess and asked what it had been before getting squished.

While there is nothing at all wrong with a tree full of color-coordinated, shiny new ornaments, our tree is a representation of our years as a family. I call it an unplanned Christmas tradition, one that we'll keep adding to. Hopefully our daughter will remember this as a nice part of her Christmases as she grew.

Of Mine Fields and Ghosts

If I had to describe the days at work recently, though I'd prefer not to, they would be a roller-coaster of emotions. One moment I'm on top of the game, the next struggling to make sense of what mine field I just walked through. In a mine field, you are almost certain to trip a wire or step directly on a mine. Then things blow up. That's what mines do. But you know that as you walk into the field. No my days are more surprises when I step on a mine because I thought I was safe on the solid road. The phone rings, I answer it, and I look around. I am not safe on the road anymore. Now I am in the mine field. One blew up in front of me. I see two more ahead. But I can't avoid them. Those will blow up unless I perform some impossible, herculean task. What do I do? I try to get that impossible task done. In many instances, I do that. The mine is avoided. But I am left spent. Back out on the safe road. I pick up my gear and wander to the next town. The invisible force that lifts me up and places me into the mine field is always around. Somedays, he leaves me alone. Most days recently though, he covertly puts me right back in there.