Reclaiming Joy: Telling Stories, Building New Traditions

Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger. Luke 2:8-12, NRSV

When I was a child, our family tradition was to attend Christmas Eve service at 11 pm, which ended promptly at midnight. After arriving home, we would then fall immediately into bed and wake up only a few hours later to unwrap Santa’s gifts. (How did my mother get it done so fast?) This memory of singing Christmas Carols in our church, filled with candles and evergreens, is one of my enduring memories of Christmas.

Decades later, I was disappointed that I could not replicate that feeling for my daughter. We had moved from Detroit, where I grew up, to Nashville, and the feeling of being immersed in the holiness of Christmas Eve by being surrounded by family, a familiar congregation, and songs of the season was not easily available to me. Not only did we live hundreds of miles from my family, but my church did not have Christmas Eve services. Consequently, I had to build my own Christmas Eve tradition. Part of that new Christmas Eve tradition was our family reading the 2nd Chapter of Luke in the evening before bedtime. We sat by the lit Christmas tree and after reading the scripture, we would pray and sing a few carols. Not the same, but immensely satisfying to know I was creating a tradition for my family that celebrated the birth of Jesus in a way that fit our situation.

Now, it is me. My daughter has her own family, and I am always invited to join them for Christmas Eve, which I did for several years. However, I am good with leaving them to create traditions (or not) that work for their family. But this Christmas I have decided to reclaim the joy of a meaningful Christmas Eve celebration that will fit my family of one. Just me.

For the past three years, my Christmas Eve has been less a celebration and more an acknowledgment of the memorable night, without having any specific ritual or preparation. But, because this year has been one of lament and uncertainty across the globe as well as in my community, it calls for me to connect more deeply to what matters—to remind myself that the light of Jesus overcomes the darkness. It is time for me to reclaim my family church tradition that brought such comfort and translate it into an experience that reflects who I am now.

It is time for me to reclaim my family church tradition that brought such comfort and translate it into an experience that reflects who I am now.

Then my challenge becomes figuring out what a Christmas Eve or holiday season looks like in the Third-Third of my life, when I am not the child being guided spiritually or the one offering spiritual guidance to my own child. I want to retain the awe and holiness of my childhood Christmas Eve service, and yet I want my celebration to honor the wisdom I’ve gained at my age, to create a space that rejoices in how my faith has supported and shaped me, and that gives me a sense of being connected to a wider community. Most importantly, I want to highlight my joy and gratitude for this life-changing birth of our Savior. (And, one more thing I want: to get responses from you that will provide ideas that may enrich the ways in which all of us celebrate and possibly create new traditions for all of us.)

Reclaiming Joy

My new tradition beginning this Christmas is to preserve my family stories and memories to pass to young family members: grandchildren, nieces, and nephews. The stories I hold of older members of my family begin with my grandparents. My mother was a product of her generation and of her experiences, which meant that she did not often share stories about ancestors. Or maybe she didn’t have any stories to pass on. Regardless, I decided to move on and focus on what I could change. The insights of Dr. Barbara Holmes and Diane Palm led me to begin a new holiday tradition.

First, the late Rev. Dr. Barbara Holmes, theologian, lawyer, seminary professor, mystic, and one of my graduate school classmates, writes in her book, Joy Unspeakable: Contemplative Practices of the Black Church, “My father was the son of Geechees, also known as Gullah people. . . .We are a family of storytellers. We always knew who we were because the elders shared their ‘recollections’ at the kitchen table.” While in graduate school, I had the pleasure of sitting with her and listening to some of her personal stories—stories that told me of her family, the journey from lawyer to graduate student in religion, and her future plans. As Barbara stated, “stories tell us who we are.” I want all of the children of my mother’s legacy to know the stories that tell them who they are; stories that will die with me if I don’t tell them.

I want all of the children of my mother’s legacy to know the stories that tell them who they are; stories that will die with me if I don’t tell them.

The second reason for my new holiday tradition is pivotal in shifting from a focus on my limited knowledge of my own ancestors to honoring my own place in my family’s history. My forever friend, Diane Palm, taught a class, Mason Jar Memories, on how to retain family memories. She shares her core message:

“I grew up in the days before zip codes, area codes, or passwords. When I was a kid, doctors made house calls, bachelors ate in kitchens in private homes, and people rented rooms in boarding homes. During those days, jeans were dungarees, boots were galoshes, and people hung clothes ‘on the line.’ Gentlemen wore and tipped their hats in passing, ladies wore gloves, and even kids carried handkerchiefs. Does this ring a bell for you? If so, you can resonate with this message. Before the sun goes down or before the sun comes up, resolve to leave at least one personal/family story for your loved ones, church family, or community family interested in the history of its members.”

Many of us do not realize the importance of this exercise until it’s too late. Instead, we grumble about not getting Aunt Tina’s recipe for rolls, sweet potato pie, or oyster dressing. You are still here and can make a difference by introducing new traditions of remembering. You can leave stories with life lessons, healing remedies, and spiritual joys. You and only you can make yourself worth remembering this Christmas by leaving your Gift of Story.

My New Christmas Eve Tradition

I have decided: Now that I am no longer the child receiving spiritual guidance nor the parent providing spiritual guidance to my child, I can enrich my own spirit by creating my Gift of Story Project on Christmas Eve. I can reclaim my memories of family through writing, audio recordings, collecting photos, or making art. I will open the day by creating my Gift of Stories Project, then I will share my memories with family. Finally, I will close my day reading Luke 2, singing carols, and offering prayers in gratitude for starting a new Christmas Eve tradition.

My family is spread far and wide. This will be a way of bringing us together virtually by sharing who we are. Alternatively, as Diane suggests, you can add a personal story to your church’s archives as an important contribution to who your church is. My family has been a part of the church where I grew up for four generations. My mother’s thirty years of leadership is part of the church’s history. I need to add that. You may have started the youth ministry—add that story to their archives. Our stories shape who the church is.

Our stories shape who the church is.

The Biblical story of Christ’s birth did not begin with the baby Jesus. We are told in Matthew and Luke of both Mary’s and Joseph’s lineage. They are both born of the House of David, whose lineage told them who they were. Because of this ancestry, Joseph took his betrothed Mary across dangerous terrain from Nazareth to Bethlehem to register for the Census. But Jesus abolishes the importance of lineage when he clearly states that his family is whoever does the will of God. (Mark 3:31–35). Although Jesus is descended from the royal family of David, he makes it clear that all of us share in his lineage when we accept him and do God’s will. We are the family, the children, of the Most High—that is who we are.

Because I belong to Jesus’ family, I am liberated from having to show my identity through my earthly parents. I am a beloved child of God who cannot be separated from that family or his love. We have nothing to prove, nor do we have to know our bloodline to be worthy. My goal is not to prove worthiness; that has been done by Jesus’ death on the cross. But I can heed the wisdom of an African proverb and begin with myself as the elder of my family to define for our younger generation that “they are because we are.”

My gift to myself and my family will be highlighting the legacy I will leave. Christmas Eve will not only be the birth of Jesus, but the birth of a new tradition for me of documenting my personal faith story. It will be a time for me to tell my stories of God’s grace and mercy throughout my life and to help my family know the value of telling their own stories. Family stories are how the presence of God in our lives gets passed from generation to generation. Family stories are how we reclaim the joy of who we are.