"That seems backward, dont'cha think?"

My childhood teddy bear has recently made a come-back in my life. For the first time in years I am attached to having him available and on my bed at night. I never had him around when I was single, and Jared pointed out that it seems counterintuitive that after I got married I would reinstate the teddy bear (I do, after all, have a man always in my bed available for the hugging now). I wondered about this for a few minutes and decided...

When you're single, lying lonely in bed, you can muster a vague hope of the un-found lover, the distant and mythical soul-mate, he who would would put his arms around you in this moment, if only he knew who and where you were. "Ah, someday..." and you can hold out hope and make the universe seem smaller, more intimate, more loving, like the universe is smirking at its secret for you and thinking to itself, "oh, just you wait little one, just you wait to see what I have got in store for you! you're gonna love it! oooh, I can't wait! But shhhh... just sleep now."

On the other hand, there is no loneliness like that when your lover is asleep next to you, and you're heart aches for his loving arms. There are no tears like those rolling silently down your cheeks into the still darkness, hitting the pillow unheard, unwiped away, their sobbs swallowed and silenced. There is no ache like the ache of someone only inches away. When you know the universe holds no secret answer to your heart's cry, there is no loneliness like that.

Enter Teddy.

Searching for a Christmas Tree is like dating

As Jared & I tramped through the mud & rain to find a tree a couple weeks ago, it occurred to me how much this was just like my dating life. The process went something like this:

At the beginning we were wandering around just browsing, not really lingering on anything until we'd taken general stock of what was out there. After a while we started stopping to really take a look. "How 'bout this one?" we'd shout to the other. We'd check it out, talk about the pro's and con's, and move on, figuring "there must be something better out there." And we kept doing this for a while.

The more trees we considered and rejected, the more I started taking note of 'where that last one was' so that I could come back to it if I couldn't find better. In fact, I was starting to wonder if a better tree really did exist or not. At least maybe not in this lot, but heavens I can't look at every single tree in every single lot! Should I go somewhere else? No, no, no, Skye, don't be silly. These are good trees. Great trees. I'm just being unrealistic about my expectations. Maybe I should settle for this one right here before it starts getting dark? Or how 'bout this one?

Time passes, we're getting tired and wet and cold and getting cranky, and all the Christmas trees are starting to look like lopsided rejects. Apparently all the other people looking that season cut down most of the good ones. In fact, every time we did find one we liked it was 'marked' as pre-paid. Figures. We tramped across acres of trees it seems. I was starting to feel discouraged. I hadn't seen anything as good as some of the first ones I saw, and I kinda wanted to go back to them. But they were a long way away by now, and someone might have already taken them. And furthermore, I just felt like we needed a fresh tree... one that didn't have so much baggage (could I really take a tree Jared already said he didn't like, knowing he's just trying to appease me? Would I really be satisfied with one I had previously rejected?)

Starting to feel discouraged, we were entering a new area when Jared said to me, "We're gonna find our tree here. I can tell. I can feel it." And I started to believe him. I too felt that we would diligently search and suddenly a light would shine forth and there would be Our Tree, perfect in every way. I had a renewed hope, and vigor, and purpose in my quest. On some level, I knew that it wasn't so much that there was a perfect tree here now, but that I was tired of looking, and by now I realized the perfect tree doesn't exist. I needed to find a tree that is perfect for me, beautiful in its irregularities and flaws and organic nature. It just needs to fit in my living room and hold my ornaments and smell Christmassy and I need to like it a lot. It's ok if it has a bare spot or a little lopsidedness. Totally symmetrical trees don't exist (unless they're fake).

Sure enough, several minutes later, we courted a little Noble Fir and everything seemed to fall into place. It turned out to be Our Tree. And it was perfect: the right size, the right fullness, the right type. We cut it down in the rain and hail and carted it off home, decorated it, and proceeded to love it with all our might... which did make it, indeed, the most perfect and beautiful Christmas Tree we could have hoped for.