Sometimes traditions have to die

Through the eyes of a child, there is little more than the experiences before you, the predictability of the expected, and the shock or awe of surprise when it comes to traditions. In my own memories, I focused on how it related to me with a secondhand note of those around me. In turn, I see my own children mostly did the same. With no regard to how the traditions began or why, they just lived them. Some became meaningful, but others were more about going through the motions versus deep awareness of why they were even repeated in the first place. I often wonder if this is something others ponder or the uniqueness of my overanalytical mind trying to put the pieces of a metaphorical puzzle together. Either way, here I am sitting on my couch staring a the evidence of a tradition I just knowingly killed, wondering if it matters to anyone. 

Christmas surely is a holiday steeped in tradition. People host parties, have gift exchanges, ugly sweater competitions, rob their neighbors, gingerbread house competitions, and on and on. But when do you evaluate the why behind each one of them? Is it because you want to continue the activity or because there is comfort in the expected? Or maybe somewhere in between? Well, my family is no longer a house full of noisy bustling bodies, and instead, nearly all adults. Where there lived 6 people, there are now 4. Where there was togetherness, there is now separation. Here I sit on a Tuesday night with only one other person at home, there may as well be a mountain between us. It is just one day away from being Thanksgiving to boot. I previously wrestled with how I got here, yet it has come full circle to where I want to be headed just me, myself, and I. You know how Mary Poppins blows in with the easterly or was it westerly changing wind and back out when it reverses. I feel like that. 21 years I was a girl dreaming of the day I would get married and be a mom, then poof, married and a couple years later, a mom. 25 years after that I am sitting here contemplating a time in my life I never not ever even a teeny tiny bit imagined. Did I get here by accident? I mean, it's been 4 years since my life even made sense according to any semblance of the plan in the first place. 

Who dreams about the space between mommy and the end of your life, really? I know I want to stay strong, so I pick events, races, and challenges for my physical body. Well, that and I like the bragging rights of saying I do/did all that I have//will. I lead a small group and study the Bible to grow spiritually so I can lean in to the one who made me. I research, explore, and spend a good deal of time expanding the repertoire of knowledge/networking so I can be the best possible leader for my students. These things are all in the now. Living in the now is good, but it still feels kind of empty, too. Is this what middle age/menopause/never stopped to learn who I am between being a child and having children? 

I have more questions than answers every single day. 

SO, I killed a tradition. I brought our fake tree up, set it up, added lights, and turned it on.....alone. My whole life has never included doing this alone, but tonight I did it, and I do not care. When I was a kid, my dad always sat on the couch and commented as my mother, and I bickered (probably because I was not a good follower). Putting the lights on the tree tested my patience, and I made a pact I would NOT be doing that ever again. SO, I didn't. Each and every year, I decorated the house, and my husband managed the tree with the kids while I sat on the couch and took pictures. When someone got hurt or offended, I would console them, but otherwise I was a spectator on the sidelines. These days, it is difficult to find time when everyone is around to do it. The last couple of years, it wasn't even enjoyable, and clearly, everyone was going through the motions with no heart in it. Who wants to stare at a tree that symbolizes hurried, meaningless effort? I can almost hear you asking, Why don't you discuss it with them, Elizabeth? Yes, that does sound rational. However, it simply ends in me having to read between the lines of whether their words are real or seeking to say what they think I want to hear. Actions speak louder than words. I see what they think about this one every time we do this one.

Tonight, I did the tree and lights all by myself. In fact, right this very moment, I am sitting by the light of the tree and nothing else, well, the computer screen, but you get it. I enjoyed the scurry of the cats trying to figure out what I was doing, them climbing in it and in the way. I like how I strung the lights and the way it came together. Heck, I don't know if I want to put any ornaments on it at all because the cats will mess them up, too. 

The tradition died, and I am thrilled with it. Maybe it will make room for a new one. Or maybe it is just over until there are grandkids that shift the season and make it new.