To be upset over what you don’t have is to waste what you do have.
~Ken S. Keyes
It was a cold, depressing day in more ways than one. Christmas was looming, and as a single mom of three living on sporadic child support payments, I was not looking forward to trying to make what little money I had stretch in several different directions.
My mom and dad, along with other caring relatives, would see to it that the boys had gifts, and the big Christmas feast would be held at my brother’s home, so the basics would be taken care of.
The annual Christmas Pageant given at the school had done little to lift my sagging spirits, and on the way home, the gray, blustery wind pushing my poor, little pick-up all over the road, only made things worse.
That night the question would be asked, as it was every night, by one or all of the boys: when were we getting our Christmas tree? I was informed in no uncertain terms that Santa wouldn’t have anywhere to put the presents if we didn’t have a tree. Unfortunately, I had discovered that even the tiniest trees for sale at the Boy Scout lot were far beyond my budget.
Huge tumbleweeds were blowing around from all directions, making driving even more challenging. They seemed to be pushing each other out of the way as though they were having a race to see which one could jump out in front of us first. Some were round and bushy, rolling very straight and fast, while others were pointed and lurched unsteadily, as if deciding which way they wanted to go. Some of them even looked a little like a Christmas tree.
In an “Aha!” moment, I pulled to the side of the road, got out of the car, and waited for one of the tumbleweeds to come my way. The first one I grabbed was medium in size, about two feet high, and three feet wide. I tied it down in the back of the truck, and started walking through the field, looking for smaller, better shaped bushes.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with them, but I got home with four and took them into the living room. When the kids came in, they inquired about the pile of brown, dead bushes.
“That’s going to be our Christmas tree,” I said, knowing I was really in for a lot of work trying to sell it. “I’m tired of the same old kind of Christmas tree we have every year. This will be a tree like no other. None of your friends will have a tree like ours! I will be surprised if a photographer doesn’t come to take a picture of it to put in a magazine.”
They listened politely, staring all the while at the four blobs of former foliage. The look of disbelief on their faces was the same one they have when I tell them carrots are good for their eyes and spinach will make them strong.
The next day, I had to come up with something before they came home from school. I walked around the tumbleweeds several times, studying their individual shape and size. The smallest was pointed on top, and with a fine, white string I hung it from the ceiling in front of the living room window with the rounded bottom facing the floor. The three round ones were hung around the bottom of the pointed one, giving the illusion of a suspended tree with plenty of room underneath for Santa’s delivery.
But it didn’t yet look like a Christmas tree. I found a spray can of white paint and some multicolored glitter left over from a school project. I hung a sheet over the window to protect it from the paint spray, sprayed the “tree” and then carefully sprinkled the glitter on the wet paint.
The tumbleweeds were too fragile for heavy lights, so I cautiously threaded tiny white lights around the perimeter of each one. The glitter reflected the lights, giving a shimmering effect. I added only the smallest of my ornaments, and our traditional angel, who had seen better days, fit perfectly on the point of the highest tumbleweed. It was beautiful.
The kids saw it in the window before they came into the house, and rushed in to see my creation. “It looks like a good dream,” the youngest said approvingly. Every kid in the neighborhood came over that night and “ooohed and aaahed” over our Christmas tree.
Fortunately, that was the last year we would be on a tight budget. Our family situation changed, and after that there was always plenty of money for a big Christmas tree in our new, big house, and we are thankful. But hard times demanded creativity we wouldn’t have discovered otherwise.
My boys are now men and have their own families, but each year at Christmas someone tells the story of our “free” Christmas tree. How Mom wanted something different so she chased tumbleweeds for miles through the open fields during a windstorm trying to catch the perfect ones. She was tired of the same old green trees. We smile knowingly at each other and we all agree that it was the most beautiful Christmas tree any of us has ever seen.
