Grandma's Tree

My Grandma, who lived with us after Grandpa died, was an insightful and remarkable person, often a spirited and lively lady who loved the Christmas season more than any other time of the year. Her blue eyes sparkled as she hobbled on her single crutch from one store to another, with me at her side, shopping for our Christmas tree, a job that was hers, and hers alone.

One bitter-cold Christmas Eve, I accompanied Grandma as she set out to find the perfect tree. Grandma was still on her crutch, frail and bent with very poor eyesight. We stood at our favorite sidewalk tree store surrounded by evergreens of all sizes and shapes.

I waited impatiently for Granma to pick her tree. “C’mon Granma, here’s a nice one.” I had led her to a healthy tree, lush and rich in branches, the kind Granma had selected for so many Christmases gone by. But Grandma pointed to a puny, undernourished stick of a pine. “That one!” she exclaimed. “Grandma, that’s terrible!” I protested. “Look, its branches are so sparse and meager, it’s crooked, feeble, weak and frail-looking.” 
“This one is just right, just right!” she repeated firmly. I shook my head but she bought it anyway.

Back at the house Mom and Dad were also astonished and bewildered at the choice of tree Grandma had selected. As grandma hobbled into the family room that night to decorate the tree she looked pale and admitted to feeling dizzy and announced that this year she would be watching us decorate it. How were we going to make this tree pretty, I honestly didn’t know. I just knew Christmas couldn’t be the same with this little stick-of-a-tree in our living room.

But Dad strung the colored lights impeccably. Mom used all her homemade decorations, hand painted wooden animals and tiny checker-gingham doll figures. The children gleefully fashioned brightly colored green and red popcorn balls. Just as we were finishing, Grandma awakened to see the finished tree and beamed in approval.
“You see?” she whispered and motioned me to sit next to her, “this tree is just right, Charlie, it’s one of God’s creations, too.” No matter how deprived and unwanted it may appear to be, look at what love and care can do.”

Mom and Dad lowered the house lights, and then joined us on the couch. For a few quiet moments we sat together, captivated by the warmth of the stick-of-a tree transformed into a brightly glowing Christmas symbol of charity. Even then I somehow knew this Christmas would always be special. And it was, it was grandma’s last Christmas, her last Christmas tree, her last lesson to me: “Look what love and care can do for the deprived and unwanted.” I have never forgotten this lesson.