Lighting the Christmas tree was my job [only mine]. With careful attention to the most minute detail, I would unwind endless strands of crystalline white [only white] lights across the branches of our Noble [only a Noble] fir tree.
This job required talent, folks. One must be born—created even—to light a tree with this kind of precision. Bulb and cord must be perfectly positioned and tucked so that every ornament and sparkly what-not reflects light just so.
It’s enough to drive a girl mad. And that’s exactly what it did.
By the end of the tree lighting ordeal, I was full of the polar opposite of Christmas spirit. Family members fled, fearing even the mention of an unlit branch would send pine needles flying. My goal was to create memories, but not the kind that would require counseling.
To my credit, my intentions were good. I wanted our tree to be a beautiful place for our family to gather and celebrate one of my favorite times of year. From the front window of our home, I longed for warmth and welcome to radiate to the neighborhood beyond.
Rather than fixing my heart on the gathering, welcome, and the faith that fueled them, I focused on making it flawless.
I’m thrilled to be at Leigh Ellen Eades’ place today to join her Home for the Holidays series. Follow me on over to Raising An Arrow to learn how I’ve laid down the tree lights and picked up a healthier perspective for the holidays.
You can also find this post at the Grace & Truth linkup.