Our Christmas Cookbook - 1. The Heart of the Tree

The pain was excruciating. Thankfully it didn’t last long, thanks to the invention of the chainsaw. It was over in less than a minute, leaving a lingering ache much easier to deal with. Handsaws hurt worse—no matter how sharp the teeth were, the back and forth rending of fibrous tissue seemed to go on forever. Axes were the worst of all. He shuddered every time someone approached with one of those torture implements slung against their shoulder, and dropped needles all over the forest floor.

The cold snow felt good on his severed trunk, dulling the sting of his mutilation. The pain was a blessing and a curse. Somehow he knew it was unique to him—other trees lacked his sentience and ability to feel pain. Thank the forest god for that, otherwise the Christmas tree harvest would be tantamount to wholesale slaughter.

The tree had lost count of how many winters he’d returned to the same grove—called to duty by the forest god. He shivered as the farmer flung him onto the heap piled high in his truck. It wasn’t from the cold or pain, but rather anticipation. The next few steps in his journey were boring, but necessary. He’d be put through a baler and tied tightly with twine so the farmer could fit as many on the truck as possible and maximize his profit. He’d then be sold to a wholesaler, who’d sell him yet again to a distributor. Eventually, he’d end up in a parking lot somewhere, free from the tight grip of the twine, and sprayed with a bright green substance to make his needles ‘pop’.

After all the travels and handling, many times he’d be worse off for it, and stuffed in a back corner of the lot with the other ‘Charlie Brown’ trees. There, he’d wait until Christmas Eve, when the people who couldn’t afford the nice trees, or any tree at all, picked out the best of the worst to celebrate a holiday twisted by commercialism.

Then it was his time to shine.

Over the years, he’d perfected his ability to hide his best limbs and appear like the worst tree on the lot. Especially if someone not worthy showed interest in him. It was the game he lived for. Waiting for that moment when he knew the right person had found him. Then he’d make sure the most robust limbs showed, and he let his inner glow shine forth, drawing the person to him.

He wondered what they would be like this year. Last year, he’d gone to a family who’d lost their home to a devastating fire. The year before that, a lonely man contemplating suicide. While it normally took years for trees to grow to the right size to fit into people’s homes, the magic that gave him self-awareness also allowed him to return year after year to give his gift to those the forest god deemed worthy.

A familiar feeling crept into the center of his trunk. His branches quivered in anticipation. This was it! This is what he endured the pain of the harvest and annual regrowth for! The person meant to find him was nearing….

He primped and posed his branches to their best showing. Then he froze. His heart was pulled to both the right and the left. This had never happened before. Did that mean…?

An old man stopped and ran his gnarled hand over his soft branches. The glow from the overhead string of lights highlighted the crags and wrinkles covering the man’s face. His white hair almost glowed in the soft illumination. “What a beautiful tree,” he murmured. “It’s perfect.”

“It is, isn’t it?” a deep voice responded.

The old man straightened as much as his bent spine would allow him. Nostalgia flooded through him as he looked at the stranger and young girl standing next to him and the tree.

“Can we get it, Poppy?” A little girl wearing a worn red wool coat and knitted hat with reindeer antlers looked at the younger man hopefully. She clutched a tattered giraffe that had clearly been well-loved.

Poppy glanced at the elderly man looking at the tree so lovingly. “Sorry, sweetie. It looks like this man was here first. Let’s go see what else is available. Maybe Daddy found one just as good.” He reached for her hand.

The little girl’s eyes welled with tears.

The tree’s heart felt like it was breaking in two. This family and the old man could be good for each other. And it was up to him to make sure they realized it. But what could a mere tree do? He reached a branch toward the little girl. She was the key.

The old man turned and took a step away, leaning on his cane. No! It couldn’t end this way! In all his years, he’d never experienced the pull of two sets of people, and he’d also never experienced failure. He wasn’t about to now!

The little girl stared at him, tears streaming down her face. The tree pointed toward the old man.

“C’mon, Becky. Let’s see where Daddy is.” Poppy turned to walk in the opposite direction as the old man.

Becky furrowed her brow and looked between the old man and the tree. Then her face lit up in a giant grin. She winked at the tree.

The tree’s heart swelled. She got the message.

Becky let go of her poppy’s hand and ran over to the hobbling elderly man. “Hey mister! Don’t you want the tree?”

Her face beamed with hope—the moisture from the tears made her bright blue eyes glisten. She reminded him so much of his Ethel. This would be his first Christmas alone. Sixty-five years together… and now, it was just him. He’d gone to the lot on a whim. He couldn’t afford to pay for a tree, but figured a leftover freebie was better than nothing. Ethel loved Christmas. He needed to honor that.

“Becky! What are you doing? Come here and leave that man alone!” A second man, presumably ‘Daddy’, rushed over to her.

“Oh she’s no bother. She reminds me of my Ethel, God rest her soul. You folks have a Merry Christmas, now.” While disappointed to lose out on the beautiful tree, he decided the family should have it. Christmas was for families, not lonely old men. He sighed and looked wistfully at the tree one more time.

“Aren’t you going to take the tree?” Poppy asked.

The elderly man smiled and shook his head. “You folks go ahead and take it. Such a beautiful tree should go to a family.”

“What about your family? Don’t they want a tree too?” Becky asked.

The old man leaned onto his cane, suddenly weary. “I came here to relive the past, young lady. The future is yours, so embrace it with all your heart.”

“But, your family needs a tree too,” she persisted.

Daddy bent down and picked her up. “Sweetie, I don’t think he has any family.”

Her lips quivered, and she squirmed out of her daddy’s grasp. “You don’t have a family? Everyone has a family!”

“My dear, sweet Ethel was the last of mine. Now it’s just me.”

“Poppy! Daddy! He should come with us and be our Grampy! Then he can have a family too. You always say it’s what’s in the heart that makes family, not jeans. I don’t know what pants have to do with it, but that’s what you said when you adopted me.”

The tree’s heart swelled with pride. The little girl was playing her part perfectly.

The old man looked at the young family. The two men were on the skinny side, while the young girl had robust cheeks and a charming smile. Their clothes were clean, but threadbare. While the offer was tempting, he didn’t want to take anything away from the struggling family.

“You’re very sweet, dearie, but I don’t want to intrude.”

The two men exchanged looks, then looked at the tree, and finally at their daughter. Poppy stepped forward. “I’m Dale and this is my husband Evan and our daughter Becky. She has a big heart, as you can see.”

The old man nodded and smiled. “She sure does.” He winked at the little girl.

Becky giggled and hugged Poppy’s leg. “Please can he come for Christmas? I won’t ask for anything else. I promise!”

Poppy reached down and picked her up. “Not even a new dolly?”

Becky donned her most serious expression and nodded. “Not even a new dolly. Well… maybe one.”

Dale and Evan laughed. The two men looked at each other, and Evan shrugged, then nodded.

“We’d be happy to have you come visit us tomorrow,” Dale stated.

The tree felt like it would burst from happiness.

The old man smiled and shook his head. “That’s very kind of you, but I couldn’t intrude.”

Evan smiled. “It’s no intrusion. I’m afraid it won’t be much of a feast, but you’re welcome to share our dinner with us tomorrow.”

The old man thought he should reject the invitation; he wasn’t a part of their family, despite Becky’s wishes. But he couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing the darling young girl. And spending the holiday among new friends versus pining the day away alone was too tempting to pass up. “You’re sure it’s not an imposition? I’ll bring Ethel’s favorite cookies. She loved these molasses spice cookies. They just melt in your mouth. Maybe Becky would like them?”

“She loves molasses cookies.” Dale grinned.

“Wonderful. It’s not much, but I can bring the meatloaf and potatoes I was planning for my dinner.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Evan replied. “Now, let’s see about getting this tree home.”

Molasses Spice Cookies

INGREDIENTS

• 2 cups all purpose flour
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• A pinch of ground clove
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 cups granulated white sugar, divided
• 3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 1 large egg
• 1/4 cup molasses

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease cookie sheet.
2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and salt. Set aside ½ cup of sugar.
3. In a separate large bowl, cream the butter and the remaining 1 cup of sugar together with an electric mixer. Beat in the egg and followed by the molasses until combined. Reduce the mixer speed to low and gradually mix in the dry ingredients until dough forms.
4. Roll 1 tablespoon of dough into balls, then roll the balls into the reserved sugar to coat.
5. Arrange the balls on the greased cookie sheets, about 3 inches apart. Bake until the edges are firm, around 10 to 15 minutes. Let them cool on the cookie sheet for one minute before transferring to cooling racks.