Traditons

There is a certain sort of power that comes with doing something the same way over and over again. Whether it be the way you get ready in the morning, the way your family celebrates Christmas every year, or something as generic as saying the traditional "pledge of allegiance", traditions hold a certain sway over our lives. There's magic in going through motions and saying words that have been said by the people before us and will be said by the people after us. Traditions center us. Traditions remind us of who we are and where we've come from. Sometimes, traditions even point to where we are going.

I know that as a mid twenties girl, I'm still becoming who I will be. And sometimes in that process I get a little lost or misplaced. But when I go home and engage in some of the family traditions that we've had over the years, it reminds me deep down who I am at my core. When I come in the house and in following tradition the first thing I do is find someone to hug and love on, it reminds me that who I am is someone who loves first and foremost. And somehow all that confusion about who I am and who I want to be slips away.

When life gets a little too overwhelming or I'm really confused or down or whatever, there is something about the traditional Methodist service at our church that has a calming effect on me. Specifically, singing the doxology brings such a quiet peace to my mind and heart. Maybe I'm just sentimental, but when I imagine the people who throughout history who have sung those exacts world- somehow it reminds me that they survived and so will I. That in the moment life seem too much, too big, too hard, but in the grand scheme of things it reminds me of who I come from. That people have gone before me and in what tradition I follow. That we are survivors and that all things pass.

I worry about life. I worry about the future. I wonder where I will be in six months, six years. I wonder if things will turn out the way I imagine or if there is a fork in the road just ahead of me. I worry that I've missed out on some great opportunities or if the choices I'm considering are the wrong paths for me to take. But then when I wake up in the morning, I get out of bed and stretch towards the ceiling. Flip on the music. Make the coffee. Do the same things I've always done. And I'm reminded that no matter where I am in or what happens, some traditions will hold true. That it doesn't so much matter where I am going, but that I am going and going as me.

Traditions are good things. They are powerful things. They are wonderful things.

But traditions can also be dangerous. We should always watch to make sure that we are the keepers of the tradition, instead of the traditions acting as keepers of us.