Present

The other night, I stopped at the mall for some last-minute shopping. Tired and eager to get home, I zoomed from one pit stop to the next as focused and determined as Tom Cruise’s car racing character in Days of Thunder. The race, however, came to a sudden halt when I encountered the Christmas tree section at a big department store. The trees, brightly lit and expertly decorated, stood silent and magnificently erect in the midst of all the hustle and bustle hurried shoppers created.

I stood still, mesmerized by the glitter; caressing the soft ribbon and pretty ornaments – shopping, purpose, time and fatigue all forgotten. Then I remembered a Christmas, years ago, when I had escaped motherhood for a few hours and had slipped away to this very same mall to buy presents for my family.

Free from little feet too swift to chase and slender bodies that loved to hide beneath clothe racks, I strolled about leisurely, gazing at storefront windows and bobbing my head in tune with the merry music of the Season.

Back then, I had met the same majestic scene: Tall and dense Christmas trees, some lush and green, some sparklingly silver; all of them perfectly decorated with elegant ornaments and matching ribbon. I, too, had stood in awe and had thought with a mix of shame and self-pity about the limp fake tree we decorated every year with cheap ornaments bought on clearance or at garage sales.

One day, I had consoled myself with the thought, we’ll have a tree like these.

But this night, years later, the beautiful sight made me sad for a different reason.

It’s been a while since we discarded of the poor rickety tree we had gotten at Wal-Mart when the kids were little. Finances have improved so we are allowed the luxury of a fresh-cut evergreen, which we get every year on the day after Thanksgiving. We decorate our tree with precious handmade ornaments our kids crafted throughout the years and with ornaments collected on family vacations or received as gifts from friends on previous Christmases.

I looked at the fancy ornaments hung from the trees at the store and compared them with the ones hanging from our tree back at home. Few are as delicate and as costly as these, yet each one of ours has meaning and a rich history that makes them priceless to us.

One day, I pondered with sadness, I’ll probably have a tree like these.

I pictured myself as an older woman, in a clean and perfectly organized home, putting the finishing touches on a beautiful tree like the ones at the mall. By then, my children would be grown and no longer living at home, and the memories of a sorry little tree with cheap ornaments that didn’t match would warm my heart on a cold winter night.

Oddly enough, the words of Cindy Crawford came to mind as I reflected on my future. I had read an article about the super model and entrepreneur. When asked what she would like to accomplish in her forties, she had answered: “I’d like to be present.” After experiencing fame and success, she had realized she wanted to be “present” for herself and for her family. “I don’t want to be so rushed,” she continued, “that I miss what is right in front of me.”

Right in front of me.

What was right in front of me, at that mall, were beautiful trees that might represent something in my future. But at home I still have a tree not-so-perfectly decorated, a house in the constant disarray caused by loud, hungry teenagers that rush in and out of my kitchen and family room like Attila the Hun and his rowdy troops, and a life that is worthy to be savored to the fullest extent.

So I decided then and there that on this Christmas, I will give myself a wonderful present (pun intended), which I plan to open every morning of the year: Freedom to be there for those I love and permission to enjoy the gifts each day brings.

And my Christmas wish for you, my friends, is that God’s grace will abound in you so that you may be present and able to recognize and to enjoy each and every blessing He richly bestows upon you.

“The clock is running. Make the most of today. Time waits for no man. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it is called the present." Sun Dials and Roses of Yesterday: Garden Delights, by Alice Morse (1902)