Article December 20, 2010 Issue

My first real Christmas tree

Longstanding allergies give way to the quiet assurance of God-given freedom and health.

BY SUSAN COLLINS

Every year, down it came from the attic. The fake Christmas tree. It wasn't that my family didn't want a real one—as a young girl, I couldn't have one because of allergies. I also couldn't eat a number of foods, including peanuts, fish, chocolate, tomatoes, and cheese. I was also allergic to perfume, flowers, dust, feathers, cats, and more. But Christmas trees were near the top of the list!

One fall my dearly loved grandparents announced that they were going to be taking a long trip abroad. My grandfather said that he wanted to get each of us, his seven grandchildren, a special Christmas gift during these travels. We were thrilled and thought long and seriously about what we desired. I really wanted a bird such as a parakeet, and while I knew I would not be able to have one because of the feathers, I still let it be known that that was what I wanted.

Soon my grandparents left on their trip. We practically counted the days till their homecoming. Finally they returned, and Christmas came shortly thereafter. That day we all dressed up, piled into our cars, and drove to my grandparents' house, our usual beloved Christmas tradition.