I woke up on a Sunday morning to the smell of sweet coffee and the perky voice of Allyssa letting me know that “everyone” was downstairs and breakfasting. You could tell it was a cold morning but I didn’t know how traditionally “winter” of a day it would be.

This isn’t a story of the perfect day where everything fell fitted as a piece of the puzzle. No, this is a story of a day we carved out for ourselves.

So, we ate breakfast, and we downed coffee, and we sipped champagne! Then we, Morgan, Nick, Allyssa, and I bundled up to face the day and the task of getting a Christmas tree.

A Christmas tree brings a part of nature into the home. Its evergreen branches symbolize the everlasting life Christ gave us. It marks a feeling of warmth in winter that Christmas is to me. The Christmas tree gilds memories into Rockwellian scenes of fires, food, and fraternity with family and friends. Placing that tree in the home reminds us that with Christmas life is just a little more full than we thought.

Cutting down the Frasier fir ourselves added a new element to the tree finding for me this year. In the cold weather, the chockablock character of my company forged what I hope becomes an annual tradition.

I’ve written often about tradition. I know my upbringing taught me traditions. Now, making new traditions to fit in alongside the old, comes more often and more easily to me.

Recording these experiences, these carved out traditions, perpetuates them and fits them in with the old, together for a more reverent, full life.

-M.F.

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