baby's first Christmas

Day 11:  picture of me as a baby. . .   this is my first Christmas.

So funny story about the Christmas tree. . .  We grew up with an artificial Christmas tree.  Except for one year.  I vividly remember the day.  We stopped at Tom Thumb after church.  This stop was not out of the ordinary, if it was where fuel was cheapest in a 20 mile radius, we would get fuel.  Since it was where milk was the cheapest in a 20 mile radius, it is where we bought milk (I remember their resuable jugs. . . sounds like something that would be really popular and fashionable now. . . kind of like cloth diapers and resuable grocery bags).  In addition to milk and fuel, Mom and Dad purchased a real Christmas tree.

They thought that for this year they would splurge and give Josh and I something special:  a real tree.  As the tree was being strapped to our little blue minivan, Josh and I began to panick.  We clarified, "does this mean we won't be putting up The Christmas Tree?"  Mom and dad explained that we wouldn't need to since we had a REAL tree this year.  Josh and I didn't do a very good job masking our dissapointment that we did not use the tree that we had EVERY year that year.  Christmas just didn't feel the same.  The tree was like part of the family (that sounds like something I would have said as a drama queen child while I was making an emotional appeal for needing the artifical tree out to properly celebrate).  Needless to say, we saved the $ and didn't have a real tree ever again. . .

Today's sermon was the kick-off to a series about the power of ritual.  At the turn of the twentieth century, anthropologist Emile Durkheim devoted his career to studying loyalty among groups.  He identified that the higher the level of ritual a group has, the higher the level loyalty of the members within the group display.    Ritual is what draws us together and sets us apart. 

I think that sometimes when we hear the word "ritual" in a spiritual context, it can have a negative connotation.  People doing things ritualistically rather from their heart. . .  However, I do think that there is a real richness in ritual.  I think ritual is one of the things that draws me to Jewish culture.  I am intrigued by the beautiful ritual of Shabbat, of Passover. . .  As a Christian, there are rituals that are very sacred to me.  The first one that comes to mind is communion. 

I grew up in a family of ritual.  Tears spilled out of my eyes in the service this morning as the speaker recounted a "ritual" he had with his daughter going on dates to the same sushi restaurant each week for an entire summer.  It made me miss my dad.  It also made me think about all of the family rituals that I grew up with that I miss and will always cherish.  Christmas was always a time filled with a lot of ritual - perhaps that's part of the reason I loved it so much.  The dixie cups of cranberry juice mixed with diet 7up on our plates at grandmas.  The music rituals (shared with you on a previous post).  The ritual of bringing out "lunch" a few short hours after our wonderful meal and dessert. . .   Church Christmas programs.  December Choir concerts.  Decorating the house.  Watching It's a Wonderful Life.  Making the same Christmas goodies each year.  I love it all.

I also love the everyday rituals we had growing up.  Family meals.  Popcorn suppers on Sunday nights.  Doing devotions on the steps with my mom before I got on the bus.  Mom decorating a birthday cake with a theme per our request each year for our birthday.  Shampooing carpets and sleeping in the living room for a night each year.  Having a special end-of-harvest meal out at a restaurant as soon as fieldwork was done (I remember Bonanza in particular. . .).   I remember buying Halloween candy right after Halloween when it was crazy on clearance.  Having different families over every Friday night all winter long for "lefse making".  The County Fair.  Certain desserts that my mom would make each year during rhubarb season.  Picking up sticks after storms (not a ritual I was real keen on and often worked hard - and successfully - weasled my way out of).  Going to Godfather's Pizza on Father's Day.  I remember certain rituals I had with my dad when he would drive me to doctor appointments in St. Cloud:  some mornings I'd be willing to have some sips of his gas station cappicunnio,  going to Sam's Club after my doctor appointments to get things on mom's list and sometimes striking it lucky and getting a sample of fresh bakery cookies (one of the things I was willing to try).  Day-after-Thanksgiving shopping - Josh and I would sleep in the van while mom and dad went into the first stop at o'dark thirty in the morning:  a farm supply store.  Making homemade rootbeer.  Butchering chickens (my cousins and I loved this - it was like 5 days of nonstop playtime while our parents and grandparents tackled the job that would give us a year of chicken in the freezer).  Having an "Easter dress" each year. 

I love ritual.  It has bound me to my family for a quarter of a century. 

I'm glad God likes ritual too.  I'm glad that just like I never tire of making the same recipes at Christmastime each year, God never tires of looking over what He has created each and every single day and declaring, "it is good".