I’ve always appreciated a well-done, thoughtfully themed Christmas tree. There’s something satisfying about cohesion and a tree that looks “finished.” I still love that idea, but last year, when my husband and I celebrated our first Christmas with our son, we found ourselves wanting something different.

We wanted to start a new tradition—one that felt personal and could grow with us for generations. That’s when we started collecting ornaments as a way of telling our family story.

Instead of decorating around a single theme, we began choosing ornaments that reflected who we are, where we’ve been, and what matters to us. Our Christmas tree is now less about aesthetics and more about memories.

Now, whenever we travel, we bring an ornament home—this year, it included South Africa and Asheville. Some of my favorite pieces on our tree came from our time spent in Johannesburg, including our tree topper. My husband is South African, and having an Ndebele woman at the top of our tree is an acknowledgement of his roots and that part of our family history.

There’s also a felt zebra we picked up on that trip, which feels especially personal. Our last name, Pitse, means “zebra” in Setswana, so seeing that represented on our tree feels playful, symbolic and deeply us.

Not every ornament is tied to a big trip, though. Some are about the everyday ins and outs of our life. There’s a Wordle ornament because my husband and I play every single day and send each other our scores. There’s a tiny camera because he’s a photographer. A suitcase because travel is such a big part of how we move through the world together. There’s even a can of sardines (my favorite food) because even the smallest details matter.

When we’re not collecting ornaments while traveling, I still love adding to the mix. I’m drawn to quirky pieces from places like Old World Christmas, Anthropologie, and locally owned shops here in Atlanta. I’ll see something unexpected and relatable and immediately know it belongs on our tree.

What I love about collecting ornaments this way is that it removes the pressure to “complete” the tree. It allows us freedom to let it evolve. Each year will reflect where we are in that moment of life and how far we’ve come, rather than chasing a look.

Over time, our tree will start to feel like a visual archive. A record of places we’ve been, habits we’ve formed, and memories we’re creating as a family. That feels far more meaningful to me than a perfectly coordinated palette.

This tradition started when we had our son last year, but I already know it’s one we will carry forward for years to come.

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