Monday, December 11, 2006
Why do we do what we do?This is a season of traditions. The trees, lights, music, gifts, meals, gatherings: they’re all part of the cultural picture for most of us, and this family is no different. Except, this family is very different.
We piled the kids into the car, and drove out to the country to harvest our family Christmas tree. The sun, hanging low in the sky, bathed the hillsides in a soft, diffused light that gave the day a magical look but did nothing to take the chill out of the winter wind – but even the wind added to the scene, giving it a clean, bracing feel. As we walked the woods, the kids ran ahead looking for “the right” tree. I looked over at Rhonda and felt nearly breathless, nearly overwhelmed. She caught my glance, smiled, and wrapped her gloved hand around mine.
Our tradition is that no tree is taken until it gains a unanimous family vote. This year fewer than half a dozen votes were required to find the tree, and the process produced excellent results. The size, the shape, even the imperfections make the tree a thing of exquisite character and beauty – which makes it a pretty good metaphor for our family. Neither the tree nor the family make be what is expected, may not fit the Norman Rockwell model, may not make sense to you, but both are just right for us.
Rhonda and I strung lights on the tree while Logan (13) baked molasses cookies and the rest of the kids hung ornaments. Bing and Nat’s voices crooned out from the CD player, almost inaudible above the chatter and laughter. On the mantle hung the hooks, waiting for Christmas stockings. On the front door is a wreath, over the garage door is an over-sized, lighted wreath. The white picket fence around the backyard is decorated with white lights and red bows. In the front yard red, green and blue lights shine on the big glue spruce and a lighted, wire reindeer stands vigil in the night.
All we lacked was a horse-drawn sleigh or we’d have been a living version of the quintessential Christmas card – the very picture of Americana, of Christmas tradition, of the way it was in the good old days. We would be, except we’re nothing like that.
Ozzie and Harriet inside a Courier and Ives we ain’t. Rhonda and I have both been divorced. Among our six – count ‘em, six – kids, some are step-kids, some are adopted and some are made from scratch. We have blondes, brunettes and redheads. Some of us are black, some are white. At Thanksgiving, we hosted in our home Rhonda’s former in-laws, her former husband and his new fiancé. It’s become our annual celebration, our tradition. Just a few days before that, Rhonda was scrapbooking with my former wife. Their friendship has become part of our family’s daily culture. That’s the way it is for us, and no one else I know.
All of which has me thinking that it’s not what you do or when or where you do it. It’s not how you do it or even who you do it with. It’s all about “Why?” And, I think, the answer to “Why?” – the thing that makes these moment in our lives matter – is love. Unoriginal, I know. But there it is.
Families are like Christmas trees: You can make a billion and one fake trees, each one identical to the other billion, and they might all be beautiful, but they’re still all fake; real families are like real trees, each grows in its own way and each reveals its own beauty and soul. Better yet, those irregular, imperfect, real trees are cherished because they are selected for their unique traits, just like our irregular, imperfect, real families.
Recently, a non-traditional family was in the news. Ugly things were said because some folks think a family must look just one way. What struck me as most wrong was when one of them said that love could not compensate for a family not fitting the Ozzie and Harriet model. Skipping, for now, the notion that a real family needs to “compensate” for not meeting someone else’s expectations, I have to challenge the notion that love isn’t enough.
In our tradition, love is always enough. Love never fails. Love defines the divine. Love is both the desire and the gift of the divine. Love is the supreme command of the divine. And of all the great and abiding things in the universe "...the greatest of these is love." Love, as I said before, is the answer to “Why?” when it comes to our traditions.
In this season of traditions, may we all find much of what makes our traditions matter.
Labels: Christmas, love, traditions
