Inspiration for
Michael's Tree

I wrote Michael’s Tree in one sitting while being weathered in at a friend’s house. At the time, I lived in the village of Port Lions, but could not fly from Kodiak back home due to inclement weather. Sitting at my friend’s kitchen table, I pulled out a tablet of stationery and began to write the tale of my first Christmas in Alaska. That first Christmas on Kodiak Island I desired a tree so much to help ease the feeling of homesickness, I determined to bring a tree home even though my vehicle was broken down. There was a store a couple of miles down the hill which sold trees, so I trudged down to find one. I went inside to pay and the cashier asked if I needed help loading it into my vehicle. I replied I would be dragging it home. She asked if I lived close and when I told her across from the school, she called another worker from the back that owned a truck and had him drive me and the tree home.

The best part of Christmas for me growing up in Michigan was Christmas eve service with the entire family sitting in one pew, me next to my daddy who had gotten dressed up and smelled good. God always took center stage in our Christmas activities from putting up a nativity to reading the story of Christ’s birth on Christmas morning before opening gifts. My favorite creche resided underneath my grandma’s tree. My sister and I would often decorate my grandma’s tree, and then she would put her creche under it. There would be no gifts until the Christmas celebration with relatives, just Mary and Joseph, the kings and shepherds, looking down into the manger upon baby Jesus. I asked her once why she put it under the tree, and her response was “Jesus is the best gift she’s ever been given”.

My Christmas tree the first year on my own was given to me by a neighbor, a truck driver, who had just finished hauling a load of Christmas trees. There was one that was badly damaged having many of the back limbs completely sheared off. He knew I did not have a budget for much as a university student renting a trailer house, so he offered it to me. Standing no taller than me, the beautiful blue spruce was placed right up next to the wall, taking up very little room. Not since that year have I had a live blue spruce, and it will always be among the handful of favorite Christmas trees I’ve decorated over the years.  

These memories I wove into the story of Michael and his desire to get a tree as well as Mama’s retelling of the Christmas story Christmas morning. May you find, every Christmas season, joy within your heart as you celebrate the greatest gift ever given.