Another holiday. This one smells of meat on the grill and cologne. I am quite a fan of fathers in general and in specific — with or without the scents. My dad is exactly the right dad for me. I’m blessed. I’d say that even if he didn’t do most of the cooking around here.
I hope my dad is not too disappointed that I didn’t draw him a picture or buy him a necktie in celebration of this day. And our meat was smoked at 4Rivers, not on the back patio. And we ate it on Saturday.
Here’s the thing…we are freakishly non-traditional in how we holiday around this house. Neither of us are anti-celebration or particularly Scroogish toward holidays in general. I think we’ve landed in a place where we don’t need as much hoopla as could be made and so we only make it when there are others who will enjoy it too.
For me, I personally am bothered by my own tendency to not do and say stuff all the time because there is a holiday to which it is regulated. Why do we tend to only celebrate people on their birthdays or marriage on anniversaries? Why is the birth and resurrection of Jesus somehow limited to a day or, at best, a diluted season? I’m fully aware that this is not everyone’s experience — but it is too easily mine.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not great at celebrating life and relationships and God’s grace every hour of every day like I would like to be, but my failure to live the way I want to all the time does not make me feel any more warm fuzziness toward the holiday mindset to offset my shortcomings.
Also, I’m not against others who view this differently and do go all out with the decorations and parties and other traditions. There is power in such things. (I’m pretty sure that if I had kids, I would modify this behavior some. I love traditions. Maybe I just don’t love imposed, commercialized, regulated traditions.)