The Christmas Tree

This Christmas weekend, I want to share a special story with you. It was written by my mother over thirty years ago, set in a time even longer ago than that. Much in our society has changed over the years, but one thing remains the same: Christmas is about finding God in the midst of the every-day-ness of life. This is a very special Christmas story for me, and I hope it will be for you, too. Merry Christmas!

They were young; they were poor; and it was almost Christmas. Joe and Mary had experienced more than their share of difficulties that year. Because of Mary’s illness, the doctor bills were eating into their small salary with precious little left over for the necessities — much less the luxuries like Christmas. But there was the child to consider: little Joey was only three, yet surely he deserved some sort of Christmas.

Mary scrimped on the grocery budget and managed to save a tiny sum. Together she and Joe went downtown to the variety store. It was filled to overflowing with dolls, games, trucks and cars. Little Joey’s eyes sparkled as they pushed him up and down the aisles. Then he saw it — the item that captured his heart. It was a small red cowboy hat.

Mary’s own heart leaped for joy! It only cost 98 cents. They could afford the hat, plus a set of toy guns, and still have two dollars left to buy a tree. After all, a little boy needs a tree even if he is only two.

Joe and Mary hurried over to the Christmas tree lot. Silently Mary prayed, “Please God, let us find a tree for only two dollars.” Even back then, that wasn’t very much money with which to buy a tree.

It was nearly Christmas Eve, so they knew the trees would be pretty well picked over. When the family arrived at the tree lot, they discovered only five trees were left. Still, when there are five trees — four must be eliminated.

Alone on the lot, they spent as much time picking out their tree as they would have if a dozen trees were under examination. Finally they chose one of the trees that everyone else had rejected.

Joe’s heart was in his throat as he approached the tent to pay for the tree. He had looked everywhere for a price tag, but found nothing. In fact, there wasn’t a sign anywhere on the Christmas tree lot telling the prices of the trees. Joe looked in the tent, but it was empty. Because it was such a cold day, he thought perhaps the salesman had gone to the drugstore across the street for a cup of coffee.

“Mary, you and Joey wait in the car while I run across the street and pay for the tree,” Joe said. And with those words he was off.

It’s hard not to be excited at Christmas when you’re young, even when you’re poor. So Mary and Joey sang Christmas carols and discussed Santa Claus while they waited.

It didn’t take long for Joe to return. He opened the trunk of the car and placed the scrawny little tree inside. He got into the car. Mary looked at him expectantly. “How much did the tree cost, Joe?”

Slowly a tear slid down Joe’s rough cheek. “Mary, it was free! The man who owns the lot leaves the last few trees each year for those who can’t afford to buy one. Our tree didn’t cost us anything!”

Suddenly they weren’t poor anymore. They had gifts for Joey. They had a Christmas tree. They had two dollars. And they had each other.

That night, after the tree was decorated with their small supply of hand-me-down ornaments, the family admired their handiwork. Joey’s eyes were nearly as bright as the star on top of the tree. The red, blue, green and yellow lights created a soft glow.

Joe and Mary thought their hearts would burst with joy. They reached to one another and gently touched hands. Before long, Joey — being a typical little boy — sat down in the middle between them. They knelt, held hands and bowed their heads while Joe said a prayer.

“Dear God, thank you for Mary and Joey. Thank you for our beautiful Christmas tree. Thank you that you love us and take care of this little family. Thank you for sending Jesus, whose birthday we are celebrating.”

* * *

Years have come and gone. Other children joined the family, and money was never quite so scarce. Joey grew just like a boy must; but somehow he always remembered that special Christmas — the Christmas he, his mama and his daddy knelt before the tree and prayed.

And on Christmas Eve, if you were to visit his home, you’d hear him say, “Let’s all bow our heads now.” Then you’d see three children and their mommy quietly listen as Joey, the man, prays.