To the Grinch Who Stole Our Christmas Tree

Christmas Eve, 2005

An Open Letter to the Grinch Who Stole Our Christmas Tree:

We came home the Saturday before Christmas and found that someone had stolen our Christmas tree from the back yard. It was still bundled up in the netting from the Christmas tree farm where Jessie had tramped out in the snow with the guy who had the saw to cut it down.

It wasn’t a very big tree, but it was a pretty one and we had planned to add the lights and decorations Saturday night. It was sitting out in the yard for a while because a lot of other things were happening – my son was in a car accident (he’s ok but the car was totaled); my mother had a stroke and was in the hospital for nine days and then had to transfer to a nursing home; my cell phone was stolen in the midst of those two emergencies which made life tricky for a few days; and on the good side Jessie started her new college class two weeks ago and our Japanese intern, Ayako Nakabayashi, arrived from Tokyo to spend three months with us.

But someone stole the Christmas tree – someone who obviously needed a tree more than we did. I feel sorry for them – I’d hate to look at my tree on Christmas morning and know it was stolen.

What they don’t understand is that a Christmas tree is just a symbol – it’s not Christmas. Evergreen trees are symbols of eternal life. They provide shelter in the winter to the small creatures who stay around here for the winter. Like the Christmas lights, and images of Santa Claus, and candles and manger scenes, the tree was just a reminder of why we celebrate Christmas.

So to the Grinch, all I can say is – you don’t get it. We don’t need a tree to celebrate Christmas this year. We’re going to the nursing home today to have a little Christmas party with my mother. Her new roommate has no family, no kids, no grandkids – just someone who holds her power of attorney. So we decided to adopt her into the family on the principle that no one can have too many Grandmas.

Tonight we’re pulling out the frog. The frog is a bent wire flower arranger we used to use at our father’s house in Connecticut. One year when we got home for the holidays too late to get a Christmas tree, we draped lights on the frog and called it Christmas. So we’re bringing the frog out of the basement and putting the lights on tonight.

Tomorrow it will preside over the pile of presents. I’m not quite sure how we will explain all this to our Japanese intern who doesn’t speak much English!

Christmas isn’t always what we expect. Things don’t go quite as we planned. Sometimes it can be just plain awful with medical issues, grief and sadness.

These are the times we have to remember that we are not asked to be merry at Christmas, we are asked to be joyful. Joyful as we celebrate the birth of Christ. Joyful that God is with us.

And when things are at their most stressful, I remind myself that at least I’m not fifteen, unmarried, nine months pregnant and riding a donkey to Bethlehem!

God bless you, whoever you are, who stole our Christmas tree, for helping remind me why we got the tree in the first place. God Bless Us, Every One!