In 2011, we started a tree hunt tradition. We had wild, crazy trees in our living room that reminded me to embrace adventure – especially during the hectic Christmas season. (The perfectly imperfect one from 2013 may have been my favorite tree. You can read about the adventures from 2011, 2012, 2014 & 2015 too.)

I love the colored lights and mismatched ornaments that document our travels and our children’s growth. I love putting gifts with whatever wrapping paper I happen to have under the branches, creating anticipation and joy.

When we moved to the country in June, I immediately saw an evergreen near our pond that I mentally marked as our next Christmas tree.

In November, when I thought about dragging in a large, unshapen tree into our house, where a toddler who is into everything lives, I got stressed out by the thought alone. A few days later, I saw {real} 3-foot table top trees at the grocery store.

And I remembered it’s okay to let go of a tradition.

This wasn’t the year for the tree hunt that would end with a colorful, sparkly temptation for my 14-month-old girl.

This was the year for the small, still lovely tree from the grocery store.

That means we didn’t unpack all our ornaments. We don’t have a mantel here, so our stockings are hung from the bookshelf with care. I didn’t change a wreath (or, um, add a wreath, because, well, there is no wreath of any kind on my front door) or add other holiday decorations.

This was the year for simplicity.

This was the year for a table-top tree on the seat in the bay window of our kitchen.

Maybe it’s not about the tree or decorations for you this year. But maybe all the advent resources don’t help you prepare your heart for Him because they’re all overwhelming. Maybe you need to let go of plans or the amount of money you spend on gifts or how many white elephant exchanges in which you participate.

Even the best traditions can distract us
from truly preparing Him room.

{Tweet that.}

The best part of me letting go of our tree tradition is the big kids still love the small one.

I strung the lights – one strand was all it required – around the tree. Ben and Cate hung ornaments – mostly in the front middle because Rachel’s curious toddler hands can still reach the bottom branches and they wanted to see the ornaments, not wasting one that wouldn’t be in view.

And then they let Rachel place the angel on the top.

They had bantered about who would get the honor, and then agreed to let their baby sister they obviously adore. Sure, it started with a disagreement, but it ended with a memory I will cherish.

I would generally prefer a tree-top star, but that crocheted angel belonged to my Nanny, who passed away 15 years ago. She died a few months before Greg proposed. She would have loved my family dearly. And they would have loved her.

So letting the baby of this family set that angel on top of our small, sweet tree was perfect this year. Maybe next year we’ll resume the tree hunt for a wild tree that encroaches upon our living room. But maybe there are other traditions to be born.

*****