Come decorate my Christmas tree with me!

and other unmet expectations

Hello my dear friends,

Years ago, when our four children were a bit smaller, we took all of them - Georgia, Owen, Will, and Juliette - to a very special Christmas store in a nearby town. This is a two storied store (kinda a big deal around here) where it is Christmas year round. Themed trees, garlands of holly, and precious ornaments are strewn throughout the various rooms, all filled top-to-bottom with greenery and shelves laden with festive (and often glittery, my fav) Christmas decor. It’s quite a magical store, even of those of us (like me) who aren’t die-hard into much of what Christmas has become. Still, when the air smells like cinnamon sticks and jingle bells sound when you open the door, you can’t be “not into it”. It’s too pretty. Too special.

Anyway. So we’re going to the special Christmas store. All of the children drew each other’s names from a hat and each in turn was given money to buy an ornament for whichever sibling they chose. The idea was for them to think about what the other person would like and to buy them a thoughtful ornament. This was going to be our new Christmas tradition - a way for them to build up their own personal ornament collections, which is a wonderful little gift for them to take out into adulthood. A box of tokens from past Christmases, gathered together with memories and cheer.

The plan would have worked. It would’ve been special.

What Stuart and I forgot to take into account was that our children were perhaps a bit too young for such a tradition - and such a special (read: expensive) store. Each child chose out ornaments wonderfully for their siblings, but even still almost all of them were in tears as were checking out because of this or that. We piled back into the car, puffy with thick coats and mittens. Thirty minutes later, we pulled into driveway - not one of the newly-purchased ornaments was still intact. Elsa’s magical flurry had broken off, the snowman lost his bottom half, and the dinosaur displaced his head into the toddler’s hand. The fourth completely shattered.

We still laugh about it. Unmet expectations and the inevitably of disappointment - especially at such a commercialized and “perfect” time of year.

I’ve since learned to snatch up my beloved Shiny Bright ornaments at thrift stores whenever I have the chance, knowing that each year, some will break. But they’ll break because this house is a house of life. It is not sterile, polished, or perfect. This house is a house of beautiful little children who have handmade me ornaments for the last decade and a house where our tree isn’t meant for magazines, but meant to give thanks and cherish the beauty of the people that live within these walls. And those people are patched together with love and forgiveness, like we all are.

So while the tree isn’t perfect, it’s not suppose to be. It represents the 15 years we’ve spent as a family building up special moments (and tearful ones) and special ornaments we find beautiful.

I hope you enjoy decorating our family tree with us!

Cheers,

Shaye

PS: If you’re wondering why I’m moving the tree solo, Stuart threw his back out working sheep that morning and could barely hold the camera to film. I told him I’ve been practicing for such a moment (#girlswholift) and was happy to show off my skillz in tree carrying.