This year, our Christmas tree represents healing to me. This realization has dawned slowly over the past several days.

In the past, I have fussed over decorating the tree for days. There were years when I put on and took off the ribbon four and five times to get it “perfect.” And the ornaments—I’ve had to find just the right spot for each one, being careful to space them out evenly and then find especially prominent places for the special, unique ones. I’ve been aggravated they couldn’t all be in the front somehow.

Not this year. My husband and I wrapped the ribbon around the tree in about five minutes. Turned out great. The ornaments went on faster than they ever have before with both of us putting them on. Then I asked my husband if he wanted to arrange our small Christmas toys and stuffed animals around the wooden train under the tree. “Really?” he asked. “Yeah,” I replied, “go for it!”

In the past, my husband has hung back and observed while our daughter and I put on the ribbon and ornaments. The fact that I was sending out the vibe to him of “Let us put them on in the right places” probably had a lot to do with that. My husband just didn’t understand how I wanted them placed!

Why did the tree have to be “perfect?” Shame. I couldn’t bear it if my daughter was ashamed of our tree or if it didn’t meet with the approval of any extended family who might see it. If they were ashamed of or embarrassed about our tree it meant I was a failure. Not this year. My husband and I played Christmas music and happily put up the tree, decorated it and the rest of the living room, then stood back to admire our handiwork. No shame. Just joy and gratitude to be together sharing this Christmas. It was a miracle.