The 12 Posts of Christmas, Day 7: When Traditions Change

Inside: Some traditions last a lifetime, others for a season. It’s not always easy when traditions change. . .

Early morning at Christmas Tree Farm. — Early morning at Brushy Fork Pines Christmas Tree Farm.

When Traditions Change

About a week before Thanksgiving, I figured I’d better look up information on our favorite Christmas tree farm–Brushy Fork Pines. The last so many years it seemed they’d run out of trees after Black Friday weekend, so we changed up our routine and went Christmas tree shopping early. Then my tree sits in a bucket outside, waiting for about the second week of December until I am ready for it.

This year is different, though. The good people at Brushy Fork Pines hadn’t updated their Facebook Page. I happened to find some information about them on some obscure website about holiday activities in the area. Something seemed off about that.

The feeling follows me all the way there. Mom, Mike, and I get to the farm right as they open. They greet us with the usual, “Have you been here before?” But I notice there aren’t as many folks manning the bundling and shaking station like before.

We tell them yes, we have been coming a while, and Mike grabs a saw and we head back down the road to a perfect pine he spotted close to the entrance. That’s when he points to the realty sign. The property is for sale.

Back to the task at hand. After comparing the height of a few trees to Mike’s six-foot frame, we finally find ours. Mom decides pretty quickly on a small tree for her.

Man cutting down Christmas tree. — Mike cutting this year’s perfect pine.

Man dragging Christmas tree. — He bagged a good one this year!

We bring our trees back to the barn–or, rather, Mom and Mike drag their trees as I take pictures of them. Once there, the friendly folks bundle and tag our trees. We go inside the store. I look for the hot chocolate machine, but they don’t have it out this year. Nor do they have the usual large white sheet with colored markers for people to write a message to the troops. They do have ornaments and decorations for sale, but not as many things as they did before. Something’s up.

The woman who runs the business with her husband (the “Have you been here before?” guy) seems preoccupied as she rings up purchases and chats with customers who, like us, have been coming here for a while. A few of us strike up a conversation as she tells us what’s going on.

They have to head back to their hometown to care for her husband’s parents. “They tell you that you can only be in the business for so long,” she says, and I can feel her sadness. They have fliers on the counter, explaining the details of the land for sale. She says the realtor wants to divide up the acreage, but they want to sell it to someone who will buy the entire property.

This is supposed to be a happy place, a place of delight. It’s so peaceful there on the hill, looking down over rows of pines, from baby tree to older, taller ones, all with a single purpose–to bring Christmas wonder to families.

Mom and I tell her we’ll pray with them that the right people will buy the land. All of it. She says they’re hoping maybe someone will buy it for a horse farm.

Back at the car, I say to Mom that I’ll be believing they can find some family that’s willing to take on the work of growing trees, to love this little tree farm and bringing so much Christmas joy to people in the surrounding towns.

“You like things to stay the same,” Mom says. And she’s right.

This is one Christmas tradition I’m hoping to keep.

At least for a little while longer.