Eleven Minutes at the Christmas Tree Farm

A new record for us, we drove in, drove up, drove by, stopped, sawed, tossed in van and were done in about 11 minutes.  Twenty if you count driving back, paying up, and driving away.

Picking out a Christmas tree is a lot like cracker pudding. If you have never had cracker pudding it is something we used to love to have a spoonful of when we would visit Pennsylvania Dutch Country and it is made with…well, crackers, just plain salty white crackers.  But like Doug said many years ago, “sugar, eggs, and milk can make anything taste good” and it’s true.  It is the same with the tree, lights, ornaments, and just about any tree will look good.

We did have a tree last year even though Justin had only just died in September, we didn’t want a tree, but we went anyway, took the dog.  When we got it home it was like…now what?….we brought the Christmas boxes down, but couldn’t open them.  So the little tree sat in the family room, undecorated, we were still very underemployed and it was a difficult month. Then the mail came, a small box from Hartquist Funeral Home in Luverne, Minnesota. The funeral home that received Justin’s body first.  Your heart does all sorts of strange things, you look at the box wondering what is in it…did something of Justin’s turn up?…what could possibly necessitate a package.  I opened it up and there was a beautiful angel ornament with a little laminated card with Justin’s name. The floodgates open and you cry. You cry because you are  touched by the kindness of others, you cry because you see your boy’s name and date of birth and date of death, you cry out of exhaustion because you have nothing left in your reserves.

We knew though exactly what would hang on our little tree.  We had found two strings of lights that came back with Justin’s belongings, we knew these were the same lights that he had in his dorm room at Franciscan, just simple white lights, probably from the Walmart in Steubenville, but they are precious to us. So with the help of Justin’s much loved felines, we put the lights on the tree and hung his ornament.

I looked at Doug last night and asked him if the icky feeling would ever go away?….I don’t know how else to describe it, it varies in intensity, but it never leaves you, it takes a lot of energy to fight the “ick.”  There is comfort in knowing that Doug knows just what the “ick” is…we don’t have to have a  discussion about “ick”…living with “ick” changes you forever.  I would say at an ontological level, and I believe that you could argue from a metaphysical standpoint that our experience has changed our existence, our reality, our past, and absolutely our future.  Now we need to learn how to exist in this new state of being. If you already were a bit of a misfit toy, this evolution makes you even more a square peg trying to fit in a round hole.  And you know what, I don’t think that we should be encouraged to NOT embrace this evolution. If suffering and loss do not change a person, then what’s the point?  What is the point of having your heart shattered if as it heals, it is not more sensitive, beats differently, perceives life differently? Our exterior life must bear the fruit of the interior life, our exterior life shouts to the world who we are, every nuanced action…large or small, every word…kind or sharp, what we pour our time into reveals our soul…we are not so hard to read after all, we simply have to be still and listen.

Breadcrumbs…I feel like we are following a little path of breadcrumbs, keep dropping them Justin, help us find our way back to our Father’s house, remind us that eternity can only be seen from the height of bended knees.