don't ask us to deck your halls.

The tree is up.

Such a simple statement.

By reading those four little words you might never understand the BIG chaos that was caused by a seemingly simple event. That's why I'm going to tell you. Don't you dare think that decking the halls is simple over HERE.

Have a seat.

First, the back-story.

My parents down-sized.

Their big Christmas tree needed a home.

(right: me.)

The tree also came with a large metal stand.  Mom and Dad were pretty sure the stand did not belong to the tree in the box, but they were both going home.  With me.

My people revolted (a little).

They made it clear that anything besides a REAL tree would be less than desirable.

Because we're young and energetic and willing to put forth the physical effort it takes to haul in the tree, the hand-me-down stayed in the box. The old stand was on stand-by.

We're young and energetic and willing; however, we have schedules that rarely afford us more than 20 minutes at a time in one place together.  Therefore, Mr. Dub stopped at the tree farm on the way home from work on Friday and paid for a tree.  We weren't sure when we were going to be able to pick it out and cut it down, but it was paid for.

Fast forward to the moment when we are hauling the tree through the front door and cannot find our own sturdy tree stand.  "That's okay!" someone yells from the hall--"We have that old tree stand that Mimi and Grampy gave us!"

And so it went.

We were so happy to get the tree UP, watered and strung with lights

(all while festive Christmas music was playing in the background)

that we immediately called for an all-hands-on-deck decorating party.

Homework stopped,

ornament boxes were distributed,

people came

and we made  it to almost 100% decorated status.

I probably should not have felt like the most surprised person on the planet when

the tree.fell.over.

Branches cracked. Water spilled.  Ornaments fell. Lights went out.

That's when the cacophony of the varied responses to stress and surprise became an unsavory stew of things that don't mix well...  Shock. Stress. Laughter. Anger. Tears.

Hey--an extra hearty Merry Christmas to you and yours if you never have a tree decorating experience like this.  In our house?  It's just a contingency in the big plan.

It became a humbling dust-yourselves-off-and-try-again experience that happened to time itself perfectly with the start of the Christmas Devotional Broadcast blaring from the other room.

We soaked in the spirit of the evening, climbed into the garage attic to find our trusty tree stand, stood it back up and wired it to the walls so it won't fall over again.

Then, while visions of sugar-plums danced in our heads, we snubbed the mess and tucked ourselves into our beds; feeling peace on earth and goodwill towards men.