A Christmas tree has always been the cornerstone of my holiday experience. My family had a tradition of purchasing our tree from the local Optimist Club who set up a camper in the parking lot of Bi-Lo. Our friend manned the shop and each year, we’d pulled up in our station wagon and say, “Hi, Charles. Happy Holidays!” We walked around looking and eyeing, until we found the perfect selection. Afterward, my sister and I carefully decorated the limbs with tinsel, colored lights and ornaments.
We never did the choose-n-cut thing, even though I grew up north of Asheville where tree farms were aplenty. None the wiser, though, I enjoyed our own tree purchasing ritual. My thoughts on chopping down a tree were heavily influenced by the opening scene in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, which was funny but not really something I wanted to do.
My grandpa grew up on a homestead in Upstate South Carolina, just outside of Greenville. On Christmas Eve, he and his many siblings traipsed into the woods to seek out the perfect pine tree. Once home, they let mama eye the tree, ensuring it was centered and positioned accordingly. After placing all the ornaments, they situated real candles on the limbs, lighting them only on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning.
I found his story enchanting. It highlighted the simplicity and wonder of Christmases gone by, before commercialism stormed in. Watching him tell the story, I could see how the brevity of the moment offered true gratitude. With the glow of the tree in the background, his family celebrated the birth of Jesus, ate what felt like a feast, and opened their few gifts apiece.
The minute I became a mom, I wanted some type of Christmas tree tradition to be important to my kids. As they say, each day is an opportunity to deposit stories in the memory banks of our children.
For a couple years, we visited a popular tree farm in our home county. It was complete with hot chocolate and a visit by Santa Claus. I dressed the boys in red and green and took Christmas card photos. It was fun and we did it again the following year, but after that, I wanted a different adventure.
Seeking a more rustic experience, I searched and found a few remote tree farms, the ones you’d never find in a glossy magazine. The place that caught my eye was family-owned and off an old highway on the Tennessee/North Carolina line. If you weren’t searching for it, you’d never know it existed.
After hiking up a mountain and selecting our tree, we waited for guys with muscles and chainsaws to drive up on their Kawasaki Mule and cut it down. At the base, it was wrapped and tied to the top of our car. There were no bells and whistles, other than a horse standing in a pen wearing a Christmas bow and a bowl of candy canes at the checkout table.
When I asked the boys which tree farm adventure was their favorite, they said the second one because it was less crowded and felt “more real.”
About a year later, life got a little lopsided and the best we could do was purchase a tree from Lowe’s. I could see an expression of loss in my boys’ bright eyes. The change in tradition saddened them. The choose-n-cut experience had become their own cornerstone. I decided right then it was my job to make it a priority each season.
Perhaps for your family, the core of your holiday doesn’t involve a Christmas tree. Maybe it’s lighting the Advent wreath each night or making gingerbread houses. Whatever it is, know that it quickly becomes important to children. As the adults in their lives, shouldn’t we do our part to fill those precious memory banks with kindness? What a treat it will be when they grow up and smile as they reflect upon their childhood Christmases, all because we gave them love and tradition.