Come pull a chair by the fire and let’s drink a toast to the holidays. I’ve set out a virtual plate of my fanciest cakes and cookies and some nuts and cheeses and fruit for you. Help yourself!
See the intricate hand made ornaments in this crystal bowl? They come with a story. I love their sparkle and glow. They mesmerize me and send me back in time to the days when my mother made them, stacking sequins and crystal beads on tiny pins that she pressed into Styrofoam forms, arranging the brocade and satin ribbons just so
It was tedious work, especially since she had limited control of her hands. But when her ALS-like disease forced her to retire, she vowed to do at least one creative act every day for as long as she was able. And that particular year, she made these precious ornaments for our Christmas tree.
They’re among my most cherished possessions, and every year they pull me into Christmases Past, where I open a treasure chest of special memories.
I was thinking last night about how much this annual ritual means to me, how it connects me to past generations and gives me a deepened sense of who I am, where I came from.
Holiday celebrations are much different now than they were when I was a small child. The world has become a different place. It moves at a different speed. It seems storm-tossed now, its people searching for something sure to which they can cling in the midst of life’s turbulent seas.
As I lifted the sequined bulbs from their tissue paper wrappings this year, I realized that this annual tradition secures me to my past, to my ancestors, my heritage.
Then I came across the strands of red and silver and gold glass beads that I’ll drape around the beautiful green glass jug that we bought on a family vacation one year as we traveled through rural New Hampshire. That was over half a century ago, and the beads have graced the jug every year since.
That’s the value of tradition. It provides a link to the past. It speaks to our connection to what has gone before, even if the meanings attached to it have transformed over the years.
We light the candles or put up the tree or sing the songs from ages past not because the act embodies the same beliefs, but because, in connecting us to our past, the act reminds us of the lives and cultures from which our traditions arose.
We recall the old stories. We think about the struggles and hardships that had to be lived to bring us to where we are right now. We think about the courage and determination it took to endure them. We think about the values and the love that made the struggles worthwhile.
And even if we don’t think about them, the performance of the traditions in and of itself quickens them in our hearts and has a meaning that our hearts understand.
I hope you have some little token of past holidays that speaks to you of days gone by. I hope you have something that you’ll pass on to your children, or a special memory to share with a close friend or two.
If not, find one, find a token that can hold the memory of this holiday for you, a bauble of some kind, a word that you write on a piece of paper. Hold it in your hand and make a heartfelt wish—perhaps for peace, perhaps for greater joy or faith, perhaps for comfort, for forgiveness and healing—whatever you want the holiday to mean for you. Then, when the holiday season is past, wrap your token in paper, write the date on it, and put it away to discover next year.
That’s how traditions begin. With hope and reverence. And that is what they carry forward.
Wishing you fond holiday memories and a heart full of hope and joy.
Warmly,
Susan