The House Without a Christmas Tree

When I was a little girl, there used to be a Christmas show on every year called "The House Without a Christmas Tree." The basic plot of this show was that this little girl's father, embittered by the fact that his wife died in childbirth while his child lived, refused to show this child any affection. He refused to celebrate Christmas, and this little girl had never had a Christmas tree. Of course, there was a happy ending to all this. The father woke up, smelled the coffee, and decided to get this child a tree and love her after all. 

For the past two years, due to the illnesses and deaths of first my father, and this year, my father-in-law, our house had been without Christmas trees. Just no time or energy to put one up. 

Until yesterday. 

My husband saw headlights in the driveway and looked out the window to see who was here. I saw a precious friend come up my steps bearing a lit and decorated Christmas tree. I brought it inside, made a star for it out of bead left over from making Christmon ornaments, and plugged it in. Then, I cried. 

Our house is no longer the house without a Christmas tree. 

My heart is full.