Sybil wandered up and down the aisles of the local craft store. She’d already gone to two department stores, and they were sold out of the smaller artificial trees. An associate suggested she try the craft store, so here she was.
How pathetic that I’ve never had a Christmas tree. Growing up, there had only ever been one Christmas decoration in her house—a stuffed fleece snowman. The few presents she’d received from her mom had been placed beside it for Sybil to open Christmas morning.
Not until recently had she realized all she’d missed out on. It wasn’t about the minimal presents or decorations, but the lack of celebration. Looking back, maybe it was a good thing Mom hadn’t let her watch the Christmas movies that came on TV. Then she would have grown up longing for those family-filled Christmases with plenty of love to cover the fiascos bound to happen when families gathered. She couldn’t miss what she knew nothing about.
She saw a tree she liked, a balsam fir, and it fit her budget. She noted the number on the attached card, and then looked on the shelf below for a match. When she found it, she pulled out the white cardboard box and made sure the image matched the tree she wanted. She put it in the cart, curious how a full-branched, five-foot tree would come out of the box.
Continuing through the aisles, she shopped for ornaments. She came across ceramic woodland creatures with buffalo plaid scarves, and she fell in love with them. Cutesy items never caught her eye before, but she found her tastes changing.
On the pegs next to the squirrels, foxes, and raccoons were complementing ornaments in Christmas shapes—stars bells and stockings. She added several handfuls to her cart, then a few more for good measure since she didn’t know how many ornaments were needed to fill her tree. In the next aisle, she tossed a box of white-stringed lights in her cart. That should take care of the tree.
If she was going to decorate for Christmas, she might as well go all in. A few things here, and a few things there, until she had to get a second cart. By the time she checked out, she had materials for an entire mantel display, including stockings, garland to frame her door posts, and a battery-operated candle for each window in her house.
The crown jewel of her collection was a nativity set. She’d celebrate Christmas this year for the first time as a Christian, and she wanted a small memento to commemorate that. Five displays had been set up to choose from, and she opted for the most basic. It seemed fitting to keep it simple and humble in honor of the humility with which Jesus entered the world.
She paid for her purchases, gulping at the total. Tapping her fingers on the counter, she debated putting a few items back. Ultimately, she kept everything. Thanks to Jared’s help, she hadn’t dipped into savings for any of the baby items and had even squirreled away a few hundred dollars more over the last four months. She had the extra money from her paycheck to cover the purchases, so why not splurge? It was an investment in her future and giving her daughter Christmases to remember.
On the way home, she stopped at the grocery store and picked up lunch from the salad bar. Her excitement for decorating dimmed when it hit her she’d be going it alone. Jared wouldn’t be home until Monday. She could wait for him, but she wanted to surprise him.
An ache formed in her chest when she thought of him. She’d been spoiled having him near so often. That he lived right down the street made it even easier for them to spend time together. She hadn’t expected to miss him, at least not to the extent she did. If she was completely honest with herself—and she wasn’t certain she wanted to be—it went far beyond missing him. With Jared gone, a piece of her had gone with him, and she was incomplete.
That terrified her. She’d never depended on anyone, but somewhere along the way, she’d come to lean on Jared. She cared for him. Much more than she wanted to admit. She’d known the second he’d told her about the ranch and she thought she might lose him. The instant shattering of her heart and compression of her chest trying to hold it together forced her to acknowledge it.
But what did she do with it? Could she move to Wyoming with him? She trusted him, but did she have that much faith in him? That was a silly question. The more realistic question was, did she have faith in herself? Oh, how she wanted to.
If she moved to Wyoming, it wouldn’t be to live with his mom. She’d only go as his wife, but that seemed so far out of her reach. He’d made clear his intentions, but she couldn’t let go of that last shred of uncertainty. Couldn’t shed the fear he’d leave her like most people in her life. For goodness' sake, her own dad hadn’t cared enough about her to stick around and meet her.
God, I know You’re real and will never let me down. Help me stop these negative and toxic thoughts and show me what I’m to do. Let me know if I’m to marry Jared. Leaving my home and comfort zone to rely on a man scares me, but I don’t want fear to control my decisions.
If she’d expected instant answers, they didn’t come. She pulled into the driveway, bummed at the prospect of a lonely afternoon. After she carried all her bags inside, she called Rysa and invited her over, but she had a work Christmas party to attend.
Resigned to an afternoon alone, she ate her salad. Despite her prayers and attempts to sway her thoughts, the loneliness persisted. On a whim, she called Hollie from church. It was a big step for her in reaching out to new friends, but Hollie had gone out of her way to make Sybil feel welcome in her first weeks at church.
Her pulse increased as the phone rang. Building new friendships should cause her anxiety, but she still had work to do on trusting people and opening herself to close relationships.
Just when she expected the call to go to voicemail, Hollie answered. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. Get it together, Sybil. You’re a grown adult. It’s okay to reach out to people. “I know it’s short notice, but I was wondering if you’re free this afternoon.”
“I am now. I just got home from helping my niece with a bake sale and was trying to decide what to get into.”
“Would you want to come over? I bought some Christmas decorations earlier, but then decided that putting them up by myself would be horribly lonely.”
Hollie chuckled. “I understand all too well. Every year when Christmas rolls around, I have my sister and niece help me.”
Sybil released the breath she held. “I can offer you hot cocoa as payment.”
“That sounds like a good deal. What time do you want me to come over?”
“Any time is fine.” A depressing laugh escaped. “I’ll be here all day fighting my pity party.”
“Text me your address, and I’ll be there within an hour. I’ll bring candy cane fudge to go with the cocoa.”
“Yum, and I’ll text it to you after we hang up. Thanks.” Her shoulders no longer slumped when she hung up the phone. They stood straight and proud, acknowledging her victory of reaching outside of her comfort zone.
While she waited for Hollie, she opened the box to the Christmas tree. She pulled out the contents, and multiple pieces fell to the ground. Aha. That’s how they fit a five-foot tree into a two-foot box. She peered inside for directions and found a folded slip of white paper. After stretching her arm to reach the bottom, she grabbed hold of the paper, pulled it out. The instructions seemed simple enough. Attach the feet to the base, screw the sections together, and then fluff the branches.
She’d had her doubts about the final product before she’d started, but a transformation took place as she bent the branches into place. In less than five minutes, she had a beautiful tree to decorate. Though it wasn’t fancy enough to pass for a real tree, she loved it. She admired it once more, then positioned it in the center of her front window for anyone driving by to see.
Hollie hadn’t arrived yet, so Sybil moved on to the lights. Starting at the top, she wrapped the string about the tree. Excited to see how it looked with the lights turned on, she went to plug the strand in. Except she’d tucked the plug behind a branch at the top.
Hmm. I didn’t think this through all the way. She undid her work and restrung the lights, making sure the cord remained at the bottom this time. Holding her breath, she inserted the plug into the outlet.
When the tree brightened, she exhaled. She’d done it. Though not finished, she’d decorated her first-ever Christmas tree.
Hollie arrived, and Sybil showed her all she’d bought.
“You’ve been busy.” Hollie picked up one of the ornaments and studied it. “These are cute.”
“Thanks.” The validation of her choices boosted her spirits. “When I saw them, I envisioned reading a children’s book about forest critters preparing the woods for Christmas.”
“Now that you say that, I can see it.” Hollie set the fox back on the bubble wrap. “Where do you want to start?”
“The tree first.” She smiled halfway, embarrassed by her overly enthusiastic response. “Then whatever until we finish.”
“Do you have any Christmas music we can listen to?”
“I downloaded a new album from various artists this morning.” She connected her phone to the stereo and opened the music player. In seconds, “All I Want for Christmas” played. “If you can’t tell, the Christmas bug got to me this morning.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Hollie grinned and grabbed a star. “Do you have ornament hooks?”
“They’re somewhere in this mess.” She rummaged through the bags she hadn’t unpacked and handed them to Hollie after she’d found them. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
Working together, they finished the tree in under fifteen minutes.
Sybil handed Hollie her phone. “Don’t laugh, but will you take a picture of me next to it?”
She wanted to remember this moment forever. Her first tree. Her first Christmas with friends who truly cared. Her last Christmas before having a child.
Later that night, long after Hollie had left, Sybil laid restless in bed. Staying occupied had helped pass the time, and Hollie had been a terrific guest, but now that she was alone again, the ache resurfaced.
She couldn’t shake the melancholy from Jared’s absence. He’d messaged her earlier to say he’d be out of cell range for most the day, and she hadn’t heard from him since. Even if he might not get the pictures until tomorrow, she sent him a few of her mantle and tree.
So much for surprising him. She grinned to herself and laughed, not surprised she’d caved and told him. Everything that happened to her, she wanted to share—with him.
Five minutes later he sent a reply. —Just got back in. Love the decorating. Can’t wait to see in person. How are you?
—Good. Missing you. She stared at the text, debating to send it. Telling him she missed him sounded so…personal. But she’d made a decision to speak the truth, so she hit send.
—Miss you too. Little girl treating you okay?
—Other than always moving when I’m trying to sleep, yes.
—Good. Anything else happen today? Lots to tell when you I get back.
—Can’t wait to hear. Nothing more than shopping and decorated. Hollie came over and helped.
—Sounds like a good day. Glad you had fun.
She touched her phone screen, wishing they were having a face-to-face conversation. This break from each other made her realize how much he meant to her. Absence didn’t make the heart grow fonder, rather made it aware of the fondness already there. The way her heart pounded each time a message came through confirmed what she had been afraid to admit.
It had happened.
She’d fallen in love with him.
Which raised a host of other questions. Did she want to marry him? Yes. Could she leave her home and follow him to Wyoming? She knew how badly he wanted to move home. She was his only reason to stay, but moving across the country would kick her completely out of her comfort zone and into entirely new territory. Hadn’t she heard someone say once that the comfort zone wasn’t always the right zone?
Drawing a long breath, she clutched her phone tightly.
The answer was there, and it was up to her to grab it.
She sent another message. —Could you do me a favor?
—Sure. What is it?
—Can you teach me about forever? She held her breath, waiting for a response that didn’t come.
Crushed and confused, she fell asleep crying.