As a dyed in the wool traditionalist, I've made certain that we established and embraced Christmas traditions, even from the earliest days of our marriage. One of my top priorities was choosing a menu for Christmas Eve. Now that likely sounds shallow and insignificant, but trust me, it was important! You see, I grew up eating oyster stew every Christmas Eve. And to put it somewhat politely, I wasn't a fan. And I knew that when I got married, NO oyster would ever enter my kitchen. So I chose my favorite dish---Chicken Cordon Bleu. And for almost all of these last 18 years (with the exception of when we traveled over Christmas), Chicken Cordon Bleu has been featured at our table. Our boys know what to expect. They look forward to it. Our oldest even goes so far as to say he can ONLY eat it on Christmas Eve. You'll not find him ordering it in a restaurant at any other time of year. Despite the fact that he loves it, he has reserved it for Christmas Eve alone. I love that.
Sitting around the table each Christmas Eve (while NOT eating oyster stew), our boys know what's coming. It's not only a familiar menu, served in a familiar way on familiar Christmas dishes. It's opportunity to share the stories of the past and how God's grace and faithfulness is woven through it all. It's opportunity to rehearse His goodness and His works.
Traditions in our home are plentiful, from the day we decorate our tree to the Christmas movies we watch; from the family outreach we do together to the Christmas books we read. Some traditions were set when we had very little boys in the house. And somehow, I thought those traditions would remain forever. I'm coming to grips with the fact, though, that we outgrow some of them. And rather than fighting the fact that I'm no longer wrapping 25 picture books (one to unwrap each day leading up to Christmas) and reading them to snuggling boys atop my lap, I'm learning to add new traditions. I'd recently felt somewhat frantic as the sands in the hourglass seem to be running out. As we close the door on some traditions, I felt an incredible urgency to create new ones that will carry my family into all the glorious years ahead. And while it's never too late to create new traditions, a wise friend reminded me that while some traditions may have ended, those are the ones our boys will look back on and remember with joy. Even though they're too big to snuggle on my lap while reading Christmas stories, they'll remember and treasure those days. And even as traditions change and flex, the constant will be our God. He is our foundation.
No matter the ages and stages of our sons, God has charged us with treasuring up His words in our hearts and passing them onto the next generation. That's what tradition is all about. This Christmas season and always, I pray our traditions are not simply habits, but planned, intentional, meaningful opportunities to proclaim the glories of our God and King, whether to little boys...or to big ones.
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