my little friend the Christmas tree

 

 

Good-Bye Little Friend…

Earlier this year, I lost my little friend. Blame it on retirement.

I hated driving to work. Getting to school before the students meant leaving the house while it was still dark, driving along the highway where deer loved to romp and play, and trying to stay out of the way of drivers who left home fifteen minutes late.

In winter months, I dreaded morning drives, especially on a waning moon. But one morning many years ago, something along the road caught my eye. It was a small, brightly lit Christmas tree. For the next ten years, I counted on that tree’s illuminated presence from October through January or February. It was a comforting sight, standing there every morning, adding glistening color to my dark path, my little friend, the winter sentinel.

 

Saying Thank you

I wrote poems about the Christmas tree. Each year, toward the end of the winter season, I stopped on my way to work, climbed the snow-covered bank, and placed my anonymous poem, printed on yellow paper, wrapped in a plastic bag, and placed inside a small holiday tin near the tree. It was a thank-you gift to those who took the time to light my way.

During those years, I never saw the owners of the Christmas tree until the last year of my journey. Retirement was a few months away, and I knew I wouldn’t often make that daily trek. I said farewell to the tree. I would miss this faithful little friend, but I wanted more restful days.
For the final poem, I did something different. I gathered all the poems from previous years and printed them into a booklet called—uncreatively—“Christmas Tree Poems.” Then, I put the book and a gift in a decorative box and placed them for the last time by the tree.

 

Givers of Small Light

Someone found it there!

Patty and her husband Steve were the dear souls who illuminated my travels all those years.

Steve noticed how dark and dreary Route 322 from Juniata County to Harrisburg was and wanted to encourage travelers. Patty wanted to put the lights on a bigger tree and even add pink lights during Easter, but Steve said, “No, just a little light.”

Maintaining the beautiful gift took more effort than I knew. The strands of Christmas lights wore out frequently from daily outdoor exposure. Steve and Patty found professional-grade cords to withstand the elements. As one tree grew too large, another tree was planted to hold the colored lights.

In time, the tree became a celebrity. Once, when Steve was buying cords for the tree, a man working at Harbor Freight in Lewistown, two counties away, said, “Is that the tree along 322? I know that tree!” People began to contact the family to ask about the tree or to say thank you. The tree generated much discussion among Perry County travelers. Some left ornaments and gifts on the tree.

 

Guess What We Got!

For many years, the gift of the annual poems was a mystery to Steve and Patty. Each year after the holidays, Steve walked out to the tree to wait for one final Christmas gift. When he found a poem there, he would return to the house and tell his wife, “Guess what we got?” If Patty wasn’t home, Steve placed the tin on the kitchen table and waited until they could read the poem together. Once, they considered putting out a trail cam to learn who was leaving the poems but decided they didn’t want to know.

I had no idea how my poems impacted anyone other than myself. Patty said they framed the first poem and hung it on the wall. Poems from the following years were placed behind the original. When Steve and Patty read the last poem, they both cried. They considered each poem a gift, and Patty said she knew me from reading the poems over the years.

I was embarrassed to tell anyone I was writing thank-you poems to a tree. I debated whether to include personal information in the little poem booklet. However, I added a brief note to the back telling how to find the original story on my webpage.

 

Reaching out

Several days later, I read a beautiful response to my newsletter post about the final poem. (You can read Patty’s comment here: The Farewell Poem) Patty and I met one day in February to chat. She gave me a small ceramic tree with colorful lights. It sits on my shelf of unique and cherished mementos from throughout the years.

Patty and I have become good friends. Now that I’m retired, we get together regularly. We’ve found many common interests. We share a heart for Christmas, giving, and Jesus.

 

Christmas Tree Poems

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Christmas Tree Poems Booklet

Several people have asked for a copy of the book. The original was published on a photo book website at a cost of $25 each. It wasn’t worth $25 to most people. I’ve made several changes over the last months, adding the story you are reading here and some watercolors and photos. I may continue to tweak the book for next year. The booklet (it’s only 24 pages) is now available on Amazon for a much lower price. You may check it out here:

Christmas Tree Poems book

Below are links to the original two articles, written before meeting Steve and Patty:

The original newsletter story: Christmas Tree Poems

The Farewell Poem

 

In the News

Others have asked to tell the story of the little tree. A local writer, Deborah Lynch, wrote a delightful piece about my Christmas tree friends and published it in The Burg: The Greater Harrisburg Community Magazine. You can see that story, along with a photo. (I’m the one who looks a bit unprepared to pose for a photo.) While you’re there, check out other stories in The Burg. It’s a wonderful collection of central Pennsylvania articles.

 

Last winter, I lost an illuminated little friend. I have since found something much better—a friend who talks to me, listens to me and laughs with me. It was a good trade.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes:

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

×