Tim and Tim in 1982 placing the angel on top of the tree.
by Dana Wineland O’Rourke, contributing writer
There was nothing extraordinary about her. I can’t remember her face, but I do recall her hair was blond, her gown was baby- blue, her wings were white, and she was plastic. There was a small hole in her back and my dad would poke a white bulb through it from the string of colored lights, and then push her into place at the top of the Christmas tree.
Always straight and secure, she watched over my childhood living room through countless hours of quiet nights, chaotic days, and early morning gift unwrapping. Eventually, time caught up with her. The aging plastic grew brittle and the warm white bulb that made her glow sadly melted through her chest. She had to be replaced. It was like saying goodbye to an old friend and I felt a quiet resentment toward the new angel that took her place.
My husband, Tim, also grew up with an angel on his family tree, so when we married and shopped for Christmas decorations, it was an easy decision as to what would top our tree.
Seven years and two children later, the 1985 Election Day Flood swept through our Monongahela home, completely filling our basement, destroying countless belongs- including all of our Christmas decorations.
I never got to say goodbye to that special angel, but she lives on in my memory and in photos we cherish. The tradition of our sons taking turns placing her on the tree with a hoist from Daddy – began with her.
When forced to purchase a new angel, I bought three identical ones with hopes that one day both sons would place them on their own Christmas tree. I selected a beautiful blond angel with delicate features and a thoughtful expression. Her white lace gown had silver shimmers and the hem hid a ring of tiny lights. The resin wings were lovely and she held a lighted candle in each hand.
One angel took her place on the tree and the other two waited.
We moved eleven years later and our new house had a mantle. I decided to remove the waiting angels from their packaging and place them on either side of the mantle. They looked lovely and serene. That Christmas, both sons had grown tall enough to place the triplet angel on the tree without any assistance.
Year after year the angels watched over Christmas memories. Their white lace gowns yellowed a bit and the silver lost some of its shine. Our boys married, but I never shared my thought of them taking one for their tree. The angels kept their places on our mantle, and I was content with that.
Our son Tim’s family tree is a nine foot beauty with gorgeous gold decorations and is topped with a shiny traditional star.
Dan’s family tree is decorated with bold red and white candy canes, red ornaments, and snowflakes. A whimsical black top hat with a red velvet ribbon and holly rests above it all.
Our angels would have looked out of place on their family trees.
One day while shopping I fell instantly in love with another angel. She was shinier and fancier than any angel I had ever seen, and was enhanced with fiber optic lights that made her gown and wings glow.
“She’s too big for our tree” my husband explained.
“Oh, I think she’ll be okay” I insisted, and bought her.
Before decorating we realized how much we had accumulated over the years and decided to go through our dozen large Christmas totes, setting aside anything we could take to the local Mission. Cookie jars, trays, mugs, and various treasures were boxed so that others might enjoy them. When I came across the three angels, I paused for a moment, gave them a thoughtful smile, and donated them to the Mission as well.
A few days later we put up our tree. As I cut the new angel loose from the box and walked her toward the tree I held my breath. She was spectacular, in both beauty and size, and I knew right away that my husband was correct. She was way too big for our tree.
Tim placed her on top of the tree anyway, and she looked ridiculous. We both had a good laugh.
“I wonder what time they close,” I exclaimed, then grabbed my keys, purse, and coat.
I was on a mission, and headed to the Mission.
My eyes scanned the shelves. There between a wooden reindeer and stuffed Santa stood one of my angels. I let out a sigh of relief, snatched her up, headed to the cash register, and happily paid the $3.00 to buy her back.
My husband shook his head in disbelief as he lifted her to the top of the tree. We weren’t sure which of the three she was. She could have been the long time tree angel who found her way back home. She could have been one of the mantle angels, waiting for a promotion. It didn’t matter.
She is a perfect fit in every way, and I don’t see us ever replacing her. I just hope the other two angels found their way to new forever homes and bring the same joy and light they gave us over those many years.
The large, fancy angel who stole my heart is placed on a bed of pine atop our entry credenza. She is bright and beautiful with open arms that seem to offer a promise of hope – my favorite word.
We can all use a beautiful angel, and certainly more hope.
***
About the author: Freelance writer Dana Wineland O’Rourke retired after wearing the many hats required for her position as a school secretary for 30 years. A lifelong resident of Monongahela, Dana has been married to Tim for 47 years. Their two sons and daughters-in-law made the family an even dozen with six grandchildren. She enjoys spending time with family, traveling, gab & grubs with friends, biking, and fitness classes at the YMCA.
