When I was born I got a “Baby’s first Christmas” ornament. In fourth grade, I painted a cinnamon stick with puffy paint to make it look like Santa (and it’s still on the tree). And from then on the tradition started that I got ornaments each year for whatever happened that year. Together those ornaments tell my story.
When I got married, my husband started getting ornaments too. Now our tree hardly has room for the generic glass ornaments anymore because the branches are packed with ornaments for vacations or achievements.
Together those ornaments
tell my story.
One year it was a “mountain hut” because that was the major design project in college that year (lucky I have a crafty dad…)
another year it was the U-Haul that I used to move to Chicago after school (another dad original).
There was a replica of my pet bunny Pete.
The rope swing made from the wood from the actual branch my childhood rope swing hung from.
And the key to our new house and forever home when we moved to Phoenix.
It didn’t always have to be homemade. But each year, as they are spread out among the branches, they remind me of everything I have to be thankful for and makes it easier to be grateful in such a crazy and hectic season. This tradition started long ago for me, so the branches are packed. But it’s never too late!