The Angel

This angel arrived in the mail early this week. She is the angel that perched atop my family's tree throughout all the years I was growing up. She was made in Hawaii many years ago from burlap covering a cardboard cone. She stands about 11 inches tall. She's not like the sparkly and grand angels we see in the store this time of year; she's not fancy in the least, other than the one little cord of gold stretching across the cowl of her robe and three gold snowflake sequins glued to the base of her dress. She's not a lit-up 20 pointed star or a glitter covered Santa Claus. She's understated, she's simple, she looks humble wearing her little red-lipped smile. I think she's beautiful.
Inside the cone that makes up her dress, written in red or black sharpie, is a list of which sister, myself or Leah, placed the angel on the tree every year. L for Leah, C for Colleen, starting in 1982, the year I turned 5. There was never any fight about whose turn it was to put her up on the tree; we'd just check to see who had done it the year before and carry on from there. My dad would lift us as high as he could, and we would stretch out our arms and place her gently at the top of the tree. 1) We had a not-too-huge potted Noble Fir that my dad would haul into the living room every year; 2) The lifting of the children became more difficult as our bodies grew, but our arms became longer, so it always worked out. The angel was the last decoration to go on the tree, after the lights, ornaments and tinsel icicles. We'd gather 'round, my mom would plug the lights in (the lights were always her job), and up we'd go, with the angel in hand. The finishing touch.
My parents have been getting smaller trees, they are usually traveling for Christmas, and even before we moved here to Colorado, they'd usually be at our house early Christmas morning to watch their grandsons open their gifts. So the angel, who was too big for their small trees, was in storage for awhile. On the other hand, we've been getting bigger trees. We have more space, we have more kids, we have more gifts, we have more ornaments. Bigger trees have been necessary. The little angel we were using that had once been my Tutu's was looking a little dwarfed up there on the top of our tree the past couple of years. There was a logical solution.

I called my mom and asked if it would be OK to use our old angel for our tree. I think my mom was a little sad to think of giving her up, even though the angel hadn't been in use for a couple of years. To my mom, the angel is a symbol of her children's youth. The angel has watched over many Christmases from her tree-top perch. From my early Christmases, where I woke up at the crack of dawn to open my brand new Strawberry Shortcake-themed Easy Bake Oven, to the ones in later years, where I woke up hours after the sun and received a green mountain bike, so I could ride around my college campus with ease.

But my mom was also happy. She saw the new tradition being born. The angel would now be witness to many more Christmas mornings. She will now gaze with pleasure this Christmas, as little boys rip the paper from packages and cheer with joy over the new things that they've "always wanted." One day, in the future, she will see those same boys, grown taller and fuller, receive bikes for riding the streets of their mission field. And perhaps, one day even farther from that, she will even see those little boy hands, grown into the hands of men, unwrapping a little pink dress with ruffles or a little baby blue knitted cap...for their own child.

This year another Daddy lofted another child into the air to place the angel at the top of the tree. And a new letter joined the year-by-year roll. Zach put our other angel up last year, so this year was Ben's turn. B-2010.

I love our angel.