Tradition

   Tradition is one of the words that seems “old fashioned.” It’s like the word itself is wearing a tight fitting collar and shoes so stiff.  We like the fresh, innovative, stimulating, and the undiscovered; As I allow my mind to return to my youth, those sweet childhood memories, what do I recall? It’s the traditions! The ones that bring back the aroma of bread baking, or the taste of a fresh baked pie, licking theicing off the beaters of the mixer, the noise of a family gathered around the dinner table, or the waking up of Dad and Mom on Christmas day.

     When I think of traditions; I initially think of Christmas and Thanksgiving. It seems we try to pour a year’s worth of tradition into two days: the decorations, the cards, the food we eat, the songs, rushing to church, the ways in which we greet (or don’t greet) our family. OK I’m tired just thinking about it. Now as I pause to really think about it, I think the best traditions are the simple ones. Traditions, like a small sapling with its roots growing quietly into the folds of our memory.

    A simple tradition we have started with our daughter is the reciting of prayers by the bed at night. After going through all the required “traditions” of getting into pajamas, brushing teeth, getting a drink, and more; a little girl runs excitedly to tell Mom “we’re ready for prayers, we’re ready for prayers.” Come on Mom! I’ll race you upstairs!” She is still unwinding and her energy does not reflect the intention of her parents. We turn out the light, and approach the side of her bed. Mom on one end, and I am on the other, we are like bookends embracing a treasured book. We kneel by the side of the bed. The music of the day is still dancing within her. She may hear a sound, like the sound of a small branch falling off the tree outside, but in reality it is my knees, a part of this gift called aging. She kneels between us, and is still, well, as still as one her age can be. 

        The prayers can vary but always ends in a sweet, soft voice, “Thank you God…and keep us safe as we sleep tonight...Amen.” Then she explodes upon the bed, for the grand finale of hugs and kisses. My heart leaps, my body grows stronger, and my mind is washed with joy. As a father, life takes on a new dimension. I am temporally transported to a divine place where you feel the loving, pure energy of a four year old wrapping her arms around you and holding you with all her joy. Then she follows up with a kiss so tender that it’s as if breath was just born. 

   

    The music goes on, the door closes gently and another tradition floats into the memory of youth and parents alike; and the roots grow a little bit more.