Another thing a mother never hopes to hear is the three-year-old wailing: “OH NO! NOW WE CAN’T HAVE CHRISTMAS!”
That’s right, our home-cut, double-trunked, sparsely-boughed pine took a tumble in the living room yesterday. It wasn’t the first time, either. The trouble probably is that I spoke too soon when yesterday, in my blog on Favorite Christmas Music @ the Blake House, I boasted that our 2016 Christmas tree had only fallen over once so far.
Not an hour after I published that vain statement for all the world to see, six little Blake feet stampeded by the tree, and it shook — as though uncertain of what to do next — and then, with a soft woosh and a light tinkling of bells, it careened to the floor, unplugging itself as it went.
Cue the three-year-old’s declaration that Christmas was cancelled.
Next, I had the kids help me clean up the living room (yes, there were bigger problems in the living room than the fallen tree) so I could take a picture of our beautiful mess. And later, when Daddy came home, he put hooks in the wall; using the hooks we anchored the tree into an upright position — this time (we hope) for the rest of the season.
C.S. Lewis has a little something to say about toppled Christmas trees and other nuisances:
“The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one’s ‘own,’ or ‘real’ life. The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life — the life God is sending one day by day; what one calls one’s ‘real life’ is a phantom of one’s own imagination.”
So this is why my real-life house, now that I am 34 years of age, is much more disheveled, disorganized, unkempt, unfinished, and imperfect than I ever dreamed it would be back in my young and idealistic days.
C.S. Lewis thinks my mess is okay. Even normal. Even God-given.
Thanks, C.S. I needed that.
© Tami Blake