the pretty tree

Like many people, every year we put up two Christmas trees in our house: The "family" tree, home to all macaroni sculptures, felt snowflakes and school pictures framed in green glitter, and

The Pretty Tree.

The beautiful, yet fragile, tree.

The tree with the delicate beaded snowflakes...

And the slender, vintage (which is French for very breakable) ornaments...

And the golden, glittered glass balls...

Neslted here and there among sprigs and sprigs of

...shimmering bronze berries.

Ah, yes. The Pretty Tree. The tree nobody but Mom gets to touch.

Not only because it would be reduced to shards and rubble in a matter of miliseconds...

But because The Pretty Tree is one of the most peaceful exercises
I engage in during the hustle and bustle of the holidays.

And every evening, even if it's only for a few minutes,
I sit in the living room and just take in The Pretty Tree.
The warm glow has a way of softening the tension from the day,
and reminding me of the beauty of the season...
which usually reminds me of the many beautiful blessings in my life.

The Pretty Tree is the Christmas gift I give myself.

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