If I have a love language
it is TRADITIONS.
Sometimes because of the specific occasion the tradition marks.
But usually because as the years pass and seasons drift
As kids grow
and each of us change
As together we struggle and celebrate and warrior and say “yes” to crazy new paths…
The tradition, which stays steady, is a marker.
Year and after year. Season after season.
A tangible measuring tape by which we can see it- the very thing that has been hard to grasp and believe and trust: Our becoming.
The traditions become our constant beacon on a path of forward movement and change.
By the documentation of our annual traditions we can remember. And celebrate. And grieve. And release. And Praise the One who carried us
slowly but surely
year after year
into Family.
This year, our 10th visit to CFA for free food in July, I looked at these pictures of Cow Appreciation days past. And I was overcome. Sure, we are moving to a country that doesn’t celebrate this holiday and that’s an odd thought. But all the more I was overcome by the story these pictures tell. The pictures remind me of
- The “black hole” year where I have literally zero memories thanks to 3 tiny additions in 3 years.
- The year that we added 3 more. And were miraculously carried.
- And the years when those loves weren’t in the picture because they moved from our house to bio parents home to foster parents. And my heart was constantly tangled.
- The years when we were first back together. But still a team with two names, struggling to blend.
THEN…
The year where we were newly 9. Forever. Finally.
And now. The year when we look into the future. Wondering. Believing. Trusting. And going. Together.
Traditions.
Markers.
Family.
ABL
