When does something become a family tradition? And what, pray tell, constitutes a family? I caught myself pondering this while rummaging around in the basement for Advent decorations. (Advent and the new liturgical year begin tomorrow evening.)
It should come as absolutely no surprise that I keep seasonal décor neatly packed in large plastic bins. Nor should it come as any surprise that these large plastic bins are neatly labeled. Nature or nurture? I grew up in a home with label guns, so I'm guessing both. Still, I could not locate the Advent wreath.
I did unearth the stash of star and angel ornaments I start hanging throughout The Hermitage during the first week of Advent. Could not find any of the Three Kings, God only knows where they're lurking. Found kitty bowls and had a mini-weep at the thought of a Christmas without Itty Bit and Thelma conspiring to topple the tree. Found purple and pink candles.
The wreath? Didn't I put it back where I could not find it last year? Yes! Found it under the Advent kitchen towels and place mats. I had a mini-laugh realizing this is exactly how family traditions emerge. As for family, I favor definitions flexible enough to include friends, animal companions, and the comforting cloud of witnesses.
