I didn’t want a tree this year. Lots of reasons, but I’ve never owned this tradition. Raised as a Jehovah’s Witness, it never entered my sense of nostalgia.
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I mentioned opting out of a tree to my son, Isaac, and the disappointment on his face told me we needed a tree. Now I dreaded it as it felt out of my control.
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Then my friend Julianne’s daughter mentioned that she wanted to surprise her mom with a tree when she got back from a weekend away.
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Julianne is as hardworking as moms come. She’s a widow who has been a support and inspiration to me for almost two years. I never turn down an opportunity to help her out as she spends each and every day helping other people live their best lives.
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That same day I picked up the McElroy children to find our trees. I love love love these kids. They’re the McElzerbs when we’re all together. Our youngest boys were born just four days apart.
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Julianne’s daughter, Kay, is all business and the trees were on top of my car in no time. She’s as independent as they come, but let me help get the tree inside and upright.
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By the time I got myself home, I didn’t have the energy to get our tree off the roof of the car. It was down early the next day, but stood outside for a week as I prepared a space for it inside. Repeatedly that week, I thought how absurd it was that I was bringing this tree inside to die.
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But, as I rearranged, cleaned, and generally improved our living space, I remembered how much my late wife enjoyed seasonal changes. Christmas decorating was her favorite. Her sweet joy at all of it fueled me out of indifference. Isaac carries an inordinate amount of her DNA and spirit.
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Now here we are. More than week after purchase, a dozen bulbs replaced, and ready for ornaments.
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Certain things move more slowly as a single dad. It’s hard for me to accept that and forgive myself for being worn out before a job is done. The funny part is that sometimes Mary and I would get this done a few days before Christmas. In my self criticism I almost forgot that I’m doing a fine job. I almost ignored the progress we’ve made. This is my process.
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Respect yourself. Respect your process. Merry Christmas.
