The Evolving Tree of Life

The last Christmas tree we put up this year is the one we call The Tree of Life.

Its ornaments are an unruly, beautiful mix: souvenirs gathered on our travels, handmade treasures, and gifts that arrived with stories attached.

At the heart of it all are the ornaments from a Boxing Day long ago, when I threw a surprise birthday party for Stan. (His birthday is in February, which ensured the surprise element.) I asked each guest to bring an ornament that reminded them of Stan – or that would remind him of them. What came out of that idea was nothing short of magic. Those ornaments became the soul of this tree, each one a small, sparkling witness to friendship and love.

We put the Tree of Life up only days before Christmas, not out of procrastination, but intention. We waited for Ben and Georgia.

Back in 2008, when they were young kids, they and their mother Tammy insisted on helping me decorate the tree after my gallbladder surgery. They worried I’d overdo it on my own – and they weren’t wrong.

What followed was laughter, tangled lights, sharing ornament stories, and the kind of joy that sneaks up on you when you’re not looking. It turned into a tradition that carried on for seven years.

Time, as it does, moved things along. The kids grew up. Montreal beckoned. Last year, out of the blue, Ben called his mum to ask if I might “let” them decorate the tree again. The “kids” were young adults now, and yet here they were, wanting to come back to the Tree of Life.

I didn’t hesitate.

Last year was a gift. And when they asked if they could come again this year? That felt like something even rarer – proof that some traditions don’t fade. They deepen.

The Tree of Life isn’t about perfection or timing. It’s about people. And every year, it reminds me exactly how lucky we are in this life of ours.