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I Am Delusional: Christmas Tree Edition

I haven’t had a tree of my own for the past 2 years. 

Christmas of 2008 was spent surrounding by boxes, a bullet proof vest, guns and the remainder of freshly acquired police gear my hubby had brought home from academy.  He graduated as a State Trooper a mere 6 days before Christmas, was posted an hour away, and was due to start there just 2 days later.  We were convinced {read: hopeful and praying} that our house would sell, after being on the market for a year and a half, and we were ready to mobilize. 

It didn’t happen. 

The following Christmas was spent with my parents {while friends of ours rented our home} as a part of the 11 months we lived with them in their home.  We enjoyed my mum’s tree.

Needless to say…unearthing my very own tree, and all the magnificent ornaments I have been accumulating over the years, is something I’ve been deliriously giddy about for a while now.

Things have changed!  I have 2 wee ones now.  This is it!  This is what I’ve been waiting for!

Or it it?

{a moment of silence for serious reflection, please}

I haven’t the foggiest notion where or how I conjured up sugar-plum scented images of my “crew and I” assembling this family Christmas tree together on “Black Friday”, still pajama-clad and humming along to Christmas carols, sipping hot chocolate, stopping to smell the {completely homemade} cookies baking in the oven and glancing over at our each other occasionally to soak the peppermint-encrusted bliss all in.

Clearly, I am delusional.

Yes, there were Christmas tunes bopping…thank you, Chris Botti, for making my world a more serene place to be…and of course, there was laughter.  But there was also a hefty helping of shouting.  And crying.  And screeching.  And whining.

Much weeping and gnashing of teeth.

And yes, I did some of it.  Quite possibly all of the above.

Yes, some of us where still pajama clad.  Myself being one of them.  Cricket opted out in favor of the bathing suit she found in my closet.  She finally lost feeling in her appendages and decided to clothe them.  Smart girl.

Hot chocolate?  Nope.  Tea? duh.

Christmas cookies?  Only if you count the ones from grandma’s tray of ever-so-slightly-stale ones.

And my house – while it no longer smells like vomit {thank you, Jesus} – smelled more like my daughter’s recently acquired, fruit-loop scented, silly bandz, the garbage I still needed to lug out, and one nostril-hair-curling, Bug-ate-too-many-raisins-again diaper than pumpkin spice and pine needles. 

Well, except for the ‘Clove’ candle I was burning non-stop in an effort to block out the rest of the smells competing for my olfactory attention.  It sort of worked

And keeping the ornaments on the tree – and in one piece – was a whole ‘nother bag of peas {I have no idea what that means}, a task that took every ounce of vigilance I could muster.

When Cricket wasn’t “helping” decorate the tree, her brother was whipping his stuffed sheep at it and shrieking with laughter.  That boy can throw – and that girl can rearrange – like nobody’s business! 

 

So I gave them their very own tree to decorate…maul…chew…and in every sense of the word(s), “deck out”.

Not quite the picture of Yuletide peace and blessitude I had in mind. 

But delightful, all the same!

Kids treeCricket Bulbs Bug treeJD Tree

I am no longer aiming for that picture of domestic perfection from a Martha Stewart magazine.  I now shoot in the general direction of the fun department…praying for memorable moments…hoping for {relatively} well-managed chaos.

I would say, delusional as I may be, we accomplished that.  And it’s considerably more attainable, and enjoyable, than the former.

I realized anew today just how far I have come from my pre-offspring, anal-retentive, perfectionistic, mildly psychotic state of being.

No, I’m not exaggerating, why do you ask?

I’m totally a free spirit now.  Well, not totally.  But at least I’m in the right hemisphere.

What used to take me 3 hours…wrapping every single tree branch with lights…only took me 10 minutes.  Partly because more than half of the light strings didn’t work.  Leaving me with 1 1/2…the dud half got tossed behind the tree.

You work with what you’ve got, right?

My previously, monochromic, perfectly uniform tree has come alive!  She has personality!  Color!  Spunk!  And the finest merchandise this side of the river Jordan…come on down!  {Excuse the “Aladdin” quote…it flowed nicely}

My BC {Before Children} tree may have been a picture of perfection before.  Bordering on boring, I can now admit. 

Now it embodies the vibrancy, the madness…the JOY…of my world.

I love it! 

Tree Assembly

Turns out letting it all hang out; assembling a family tree in between Lego cars, watching the first snowflakes fall, dance parties, time-outs, play dough creations, flying sheep, tea parties, and the constant untangling of children from defunct Christmas lights, has it’s benefits.

Bug Window

I love the person they are forcing me to be. 

They are challenging me daily to be.  And you couldn’t pay me enough to return to the one they are slowly and consistently wooing me out from within.

“Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed”

I may be delusional.  But my little babes would take that over persnickety any day of the week.

So long, stiff-necked perfectionista…I’m so grateful you won’t be home for Christmas…or any other occasion, for that matter.  Our home is much more enjoyable without you.

Our tree

Hope your black Friday was as colorful as mine!

Related posts:

  1. Trim A Tree…Any Tree
  2. Merry & BRIGHT Christmas {Printable}
  3. Happy {Homemade} Christmas
  4. The Fabulously Easy Christmas Centerpiece
«
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Family, Keepin' it Real, The Kiddos

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Simply Bloom exists to empower women to embrace their stories, live out their passion with purpose, and leave a legacy of love.
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Hello there! I'm Joy. Speaker, designer, author & coach, and creator of the #weROARproject. Welcome to Simply Bloom Co., where passion & purpose collide.

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May you remember that God is not only the God of d May you remember that God is not only
the God of destinations, but of detours.

When life takes you somewhere you never intended to go,
may you recognize that you have not been forgotten.

May you have eyes to see the people in front of you,
hands willing to gather the sticks,
courage to shake off the snakes,
a heart willing to welcome and be welcomed,
and faith to believe that even here,
especially here, God is at work.
What if the place you keep calling a detour is act What if the place you keep calling a detour is actually part of the story?

Paul was headed to Rome. Instead, he ended up shipwrecked on Malta.
It wasn't the destination. But it mattered.

A reminder for all of us: don't waste the waiting,
the detour, or the place you didn't choose.

🎙️ 042 | Make Malta Matter | Finding Purpose in Divine Detours
  The latest Oh, Good Grief Podcast episode is out now.

#OhGoodGriefPodcast #MakeMaltaMatter #SimplyBloomCo
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What if the years you thought were wasted… weren't What if the years you thought were wasted…
weren't wasted at all?

In Part 2 of my conversation with Leah Harvey,
we go deeper into what it means to trust
God when the outcome is still unknown.

Leah has spent years carrying the ache of infertility,
and she doesn't offer a tidy answer or a spiritual shortcut.

Instead, she talks about restoration.
About eternity.
About choosing Jesus over her preference.
About looking for treasure in the middle of the story.

And about the surprising realization that there
may not have been wasted years after all,
because God was present in every one of them.

He is.
Even here.
Even now.

🎧 Part Two with Leah Harvey is live now.

#OhGoodGriefPodcast #StruggleWell #StayRooted #SojournTogether
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What if trusting that God is good doesn't mean bel What if trusting that God is good doesn't mean
believing He will give us everything we ask for?

That's one of the questions my friend Leah Harvey
and I wrestle with in this week's episode.

Leah and her hubby, Jake, have walked through years
of infertility and the kind of unanswered prayer that
doesn't just hurt once—it asks you to keep
trusting God over and over again.

We talk about grief, surrender, the questions we sometimes feel afraid to ask, and what happens when we stop trying to put tidy answers over messy pain.

This is a tender conversation about choosing Jesus over our preferences, embracing the mystery of God, and learning to believe that His goodness doesn't depend on whether He gives us the thing we're asking for.

Part One of my conversation with Leah Harvey is live now
🎧  040 | The Goodness of God in the Waiting

#OhGoodGriefPodcast #StruggleWell #StayRooted #SojournTogether
Before the world told you who you needed to become Before the world told you who you needed to become...
Before fear taught you how to survive...
Before shame convinced you to hide...
God looked at you and called you His own.

Not because you had healed.
Not because you had figured yourself out.
Not because you had become your best self.
Simply because you were His.

You are still becoming.
And you are already loved.

Keep coming home.

#OhGoodGriefPodcast #SimplyBloomCo
What if the goal isn't to become a different type, What if the goal isn't to become a different type,
but to become more fully yourself?

We've spent the last several weeks exploring the Enneagram:
our gifts, wounds, coping strategies, and the stories we
learned to believe in order to survive.

Now it's time to come home.

Episode 039 closes this Summer Series by asking
what happens when self-awareness becomes surrender.

The Enneagram can help us understand our patterns.
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You are not your number.
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You are not your coping strategy.

You are a beloved child of God.

🎧 Oh, Good Grief — Episode 039 is available now.
Sitting on the front porch with a cup of coffee, m Sitting on the front porch with a cup of coffee, my Bible and a book of maps in my lap, and the sun on my face, has me thinking about how strange and beautiful life can be.

It’s no small honor to be given the opportunity to preach at our church from time to time. Had you told the broken, shoplifting, lying, giving-her-body-away-for-free teenage girl I once was that one day she’d stand in a pulpit and talk to people about God’s goodness and grace, I would have laughed at you.

But maybe that’s exactly why God delights in using the messy, the unlikely, the misfits. Because these are the stories that make His redemption impossible to miss.

One of my favorite lines from The Chosen, spoken by Mary Magdalene, sums it up perfectly: “I was one way, and now I am completely different. And the thing that happened in between was Him.”

That’s my story, too.
And if I were to hazard a guess, it's yours as well.

It’s one of my greatest joys to dig into God’s Word, share what He’s laid on my heart, offer some encouragement and conviction, confess the uncomfortable things, and ultimately point people back to Jesus.

Because there’s no denying the extraordinary power of redemption when you’ve lived it yourself.
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