“Can you please take my tree down before you leave for work today?”

“What about the rest of these boxes?”

“Nope, I am not decorating the whole house this year.”

Y’all, I believe my husband nearly fell off the attic ladder when I made that declaration. How many of you are like me? Container after container, labeled and stacked in your attic. Mine are actually labeled according to the room contents it holds. The sigh of relief was audible to the neighbors. 

Although we have been empty nesters for the last several years, I would still have my husband and son haul ALL the containers down and spend the better part of two days making every nook and cranny of my home festive. I mean we had to clear the table to eat…haha. We have decided that we will have our family celebration at my daughter’s house this year, so I feel no real need to “do the do.” I will, however, have a tree! 

After popping it up and turning the lights on, the three-year-old boys that spend their days with me were ecstatic to say the very least. They ran and jumped. They sat in a chair and stared in awe. They gasped when I turned the lights off to check a bulb. Christmas lights through the eyes of a child are one of the most beautiful things to witness. Every year they grab a blanket and put it on the floor in front of the tree and just stare at it.

As the excitement wore off a smidge (remember, I am a South Georgia girl – we say smidge) one of my boys looked up at me with a little disappointment in his eyes. “Bootay, you won’t be ready for Christmas.” His little voice had a little bit of compassion and a whole lot of pity. When I asked him why, he gently informed me that my tree didn’t have ornaments on it. In his little mind we couldn’t have Christmas at my house because my tree was not ready. Holding back a laugh, I told him it was ok because I would put the ornaments on it later. But, this has been with me throughout the morning. 

I have spent many hours with the boys teaching them the ways of the Lord. We pray each morning together to the point that they have now begun to take over, “Thank you Jesus for Boobay, thank you Jesus for R, Thank you Jesus for E, thank you Jesus for toys…” The thank you Jesus portion of our prayer has taken on a life of its own. We have learned Bible verses, songs and stories. This year has been a bit more challenging as I try to teach the Christmas story. They now have an understanding of Santa, Rudolph, gifts and yes, trees. Navigating through that can be a road filled with red and green tinsel. But I am going to buckle my seatbelt and take a seat on the passenger side while I ask the Father to guide me through it.

I want them to enjoy the “magic” of the season. The excitement R had when he announced that, “Santa Claus was coming” to his house. I remember my children well and how fun this time of year was when they were young. Santa came to our house. Rudolph and his friends enjoyed a snack in the yard while their captain chomped on cookies inside. We read the night before Christmas and watched The Grinch. The joy and wonder in our children’s eyes make all of these things worth it. 

We often fail as Christian parents by putting our focus on these things. We forget to tell the story of a young mother riding on the back of a donkey down a dark road from Nazareth, her arms cuddling the unborn Messiah.  Finding only a sheep’s den to give birth and a humble manger to lay this king in. We forget to explain the joyous praise of the shepherds or the triumphant declaration of the angels. We don’t always mention that the Savior of the World is The Gift we should be seeking. 

I plan to make it a priority these next few weeks to focus on those aspects of this season. I want them to grow into men of God that understand what Christmas really means. My untrimmed tree will not hold back the celebration of Jesus’ birth. In fact, my untrimmed tree serves as a reminder that He came humbly to an untrimmed stable to save the world.  Maybe one day when their children say, “Daddy, we won’t be ready for Christmas if our tree isn’t decorated,” they can respond with, “Come sit down, let me tell you a story.”

Written by: Betty Ann NeSmith. Betty Ann lives in Boston, GA with her husband, Payton.