THE CHRISTMAS TREE ANGELS
I imagine that you have already taken down your Christmas tree and packed each ornament into its box for the year. When I was little, I was both fascinated and embarrassed by our Christmas tree. I was enthralled by the Christmas magic when all the decorations were on and the lights were plugged in, but embarrassed that I would have to explain to my friends why our tree had little strings of Norwegian flags cascading down from the top and red and white colorful heart baskets hanging on the branches.
Our tree always seemed higglety pigglety and homemade to me. The neighbors had cool trees. One had a thematic candy tree all in pink, decorated with gingerbread houses and gingerbread men with candy garlands neatly wound around. Another had a tree all in gold and blue balls. Some had tinsel covered trees with flashing colorful lights. I wondered why we couldn’t have a matching, cool tree like my neighbors.
Inevitably, someone would ask why Norwegian flags and the woven heart baskets (Julehjerter) were hanging on our tree and I would explain that my grandfather was a Norwegian immigrant, so we have a Norwegian tree. I remember watching my grandfather expertly weave two different colors of wrapping paper together to make the heart baskets. Strange that I didn’t think to teach my friends how to make those traditional Scandinavian Christmas hearts. Later in life, I appreciated it for the treasure that it was and taught my students how to weave them.
Our childhood tree was also decorated with handmade angels made by my mother. The angel’s gown was made of triangular blue satin and she had white tulle wings. The face was made of a pantyhose stuffed with cotton with stitched eyes and mouth. The hair was cotton. Each angel had a different expression. Somehow my mother created different personalities with just black thread, nylon and cotton. I loved looking at each little angel’s face. I used to imagine they were the Lennon sisters singing in four-part harmony from the branches of our Christmas tree.
After my mother’s passing in 2017, my sister and I uncovered the family box of ornaments and found those little blue angels. We divided them up and proudly display them on our Christmas trees.
This year, I watched with tender amusement as my grown daughter strung a string of Norwegian flags around the Christmas tree and pronounced it “done.” I said, “Not quite” and finished the tree by hanging mom’s angels on the most prominent branches. Then I posted a picture of the angels on Facebook. Jana, a Facebook friend from my hometown of Gig Harbor, Washington, replied to my post.
“What!? I have only seen these at my house,” she wrote. “Do you think your mother sold some?” She posted a picture of an angel on her tree. Same triangular body, tulle wings cotton hair, and nylon face.
Jana’s mother is in her 90’s, so I posted, “You’re kidding, your mother holds the key to the mystery of the angels, you have to ask your mom.”
Jana’s mother confirmed that my mother made the angels. My sister joined the FB conversation and shed some light on the angel mystery; our mother indeed did sell the angels at the Gig Harbor Methodist church Christmas bizarre to raise money to start a preschool. Jana and I attended the preschool together in 1968. Jana posted that as a child, she always loved those angels hanging on her family tree and she was excited to have them on her own tree for the first time this year.
What a lovely God wink it was that mom’s angels would be rediscovered and hanging on our trees a half-century later in Texas and Washington. As I tuck mom’s angels back in the Christmas box, I sense the presence of my mother; her giggle and delight in knowing that her angels still grace some Christmas trees reminding us of the presence of angels among us, watching over us and proclaiming good news of peace on earth and goodwill to men.
Published in The Facts newspaper January 14, 2026
