Name:
Location: Out West

An old-fashioned guy grappling with new-fangled ways.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Merry Christmas, 2005

Yeah, I know Christmas has passed. But I can't think of anything to write at the moment, so I'm publishing our family's annual Christmas letter as a way to stir up the creative juices. It should give you all some idea of who we are and what we're about. I hope you enjoy it.


Dear Family & Friends,

Well, there we were, stalking the wild Christmas tree. Caleb had the lead and was pounding down the trail, saw slung over his shoulder. Kate and Kira followed, arm in arm, chattering like squirrels. I brought up the rear with Miss Nancy. She can walk fast enough to keep up, she just prefers not to. I pretend I'm interested in pine cones and bird tracks, because I don't want to keep up with Caleb either. At my age, there's not enough air in these mountains to support such an effort. What would everyone else breathe? Besides, someone has to make sure Nancy doesn't get lost in her daydreams.

She drops to her hands and knees right in front of me and rummages around in a snow bank. "What are you looking for?" I ask. She bounces up holding a chunk of snow as big as her head. "Nothing, I just wanted to eat some snow." I smile, "Didja make sure it wasn't yellow?" She scowls, "Daaad, of course I did." It's a standard joke between us. When she was little she wasn't always so discriminating.

Caleb stops to holler at everyone to hurry up. He's on a mission. There will be no hot chocolate until we cut a tree down, and his sweet tooth wants some chocolate. Preferably, yesterday. We reach the tree-cutting area. Caleb stops at the first tallish tree he sees. "How about this one?" Kate pretends he never opened his mouth. She's in charge now, and Caleb shrugs and follows her... and follows her... and follows her. Me, Nancy and Kira plant ourselves in a central spot. This could take awhile. With me, the closer I get to a tree, the better it looks. But when Kate hunts Christmas trees, the ones way off in the distance are always best. I've learned not to follow her, but instead wait for her to call for a second opinion.

"Honey, will you come here?" I wade over knowing full well that this particular tree is safe, and willl probably live a good long time yet. Caleb is already kicking snow away from its base. Foolish boy. "What do you think?" she asks. "It's not the one," I say, "It can't be, it's the first." Kate gives me a look she usually reserves for the children; but as she does, she spies another tree beyond me. "Let's go look at that one." And off she goes, Caleb in her wake, me hiding a smile. This process is usually repeated until someone says, "Where's Nancy?"

Nancy is on her back in the snow, arms and legs flailing. She is determined to produce the perfect snow angel. But, because of the rough and rocky landscape, most of her efforts look like buffalo wallows. Kira hollers, "Here she is dad" and we all go back to tree hunting. Kate has narrowed it down to two lucky finalists, and we stomp back and forth between them, comparing height, fullness, straightness, color.. we do everything but taste the darn things. Kira finally says what I am thinking. "I'm cold. Let's just flip a coin and cut one of 'em." Kira is cold because she is dressed for the mall, not the mountains. One never knows when a cute guy might happen by in the middle of the forest, in the dead of winter. But I say nothing. Her clothing choices are my ace in the hole, for they place definite time limits on our tree hunt. "Uh, dear.. as much as I hate to cut this short.."

Kate announces the winner and Caleb pounces before she can change her mind. A few furious strokes of the saw and we have committed treeicide. We all gather around the victim for pictures, and then Caleb shoulders the tree and I the saw and back to the truck we go.

On the ride back to town, we sip our chocolate and reminisce. Do you remember the year all the kids were too small to walk through the snow and we had to pull them in sleds? Do you remember the snow ball fight with the Newsom's and the year we cut our tree on the Follett ranch? Did you know we cut our tree only a few miles from where dad shot that cow elk? How wonderful it is to have roots and a history here, stretching back to our courtship, marriage and the births of our children! The tree permit; $10, the gas; $30, the hot chocolate $5... and the memories; priceless.

It is the season for remembrance, is it not? As we plan our celebrations, share good food and fellowship, exchange cards and gifts, we add our own small threads to the grand tapestry God has been weaving in the world since Bethlehem. We remember the birth of Jesus; and take joy and comfort in the meaning and purpose His life has added to our own. Our prayer for each of you is this: whether you eat or drink, buy or make, shop or travel, cut a tree, buy a tree, build a tree... that you will do all to the Glory of God. May you have the satisfaction of knowing Him, and remembering who you are and where you came from, this Christmas, and always.

Love Always,
The Gerard Family

4 Comments:

Blogger RL said...

Nice to meet you Randall.

Your tree hunting expeditions sound similar to the ones our family has had these past years in Wisconsin.

A very heartwarming story.

I saw on your profile that you are interested in alternative building methods. I am too. My Dad and I started a slip form project the year before last. I wanted to experiment with it. I have been thinking about using slip forms to build a stone basement for our house someday. I plan to make a post about our slip form stone project on my blog before too long.

I'm interested in all kinds of alternative building methods and hope to get more into it in the future. In fact it was my interest in alternative building that indirectly led me to this cool Christian agrarian community.

A belated Merry Christmas to you.

Russ

2:46 PM  
Blogger James said...

Very enjoyable story, it reminded me of tree hunting in Northern Arizona. The politics of tree hunting is half the fun. This year we (read Sue) found a red cedar, the topmost part of which did a passable job for us.

James

6:46 PM  
Blogger Christine said...

Welcome! That's a wonderful story! We pray there's more where that came from!

7:36 AM  
Blogger Randall Gerard said...

Hi Russ,

Thanks for stopping by and thanks for the mention on your blog with regard to community and sustainability. I always look forward to your thoughts. My own foray into alternative construction resulted in a modest straw-bale house. But I'm interested and curious about all of it.

James,

I agree the politics can be interesting. Especially in the west where there's so much public land that the public can't use. Corporations can use (abuse?) it; government can as well; but the rest of us better not cut a christmas tree without a permit. It's probably safer for all if I don't get started.

HH,

Thank you ma'am; I appreciate the kind words. I'll try to contribute whenever the muse smacks me with a 2 x 4.

R.G.

9:54 AM  

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