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Thoughts on...Celebration
by Louise LeBrun
This particular topic has required more attention from me than usual.
More effort. More 'struggle'. When I am faced with such an experience, I find myself becoming more and more curious. It has been a long time since I've let go of the need for struggle so, when it reappears, my instincts tell me that there is an opportunity here for a rediscovery….or reclamation….or a revelation.
To appease my logical need for data, I turned to the dictionary and discovered the Latin celebrare means 'to frequent' or 'fill'. (No matter how hard we try, we can never seem to get by without the ancient sounds that formed the platform for our communication. Perhaps there is more
wisdom here than we realize.) Surprised, I found myself pondering what would likely be the 'standard' thoughts that one would associate with the word 'celebration'. Thoughts of parties, people, laughter, music, food and, usually, more food! Perhaps even applause and awards. Dressing
up. Sleeping too little and eating/drinking too much! Images of people engaged in conversations with other people….in pairs and in small groups….or even bearing witness to a stage performance as one seated among the many.
The next thoughts that streamed were images of a small group … a family … seated around a table, about to enjoy the fruits of the fall harvest.
Smells of turkey and pumpkin pie wafting through the air. Or perhaps visions of gently falling snow and the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. Excited children straining to sit quietly – even if for a moment – as the unwrapped toys await the return of their attention.
Or perhaps a couple, standing side by side at the front of the church, bold in their intentions and yet reaching out to gently touch one hand to another. Filled with the excitement – and trepidation – of a life
once journeyed alone and about to be harnessed as two. Long white dress.
Crisp pleats in dark suit pants. White shirts and ties and boutonnieres. And in the soft candle light of the church, friends and family bear witness to the coming together of one of the greatest forces in the world: the flow of two, standing as one, to create the many. And life goes on….
Small children at play. Four candles on a cake, with one small breath about to make its mark. Boxes in brightly colored paper…with bows and ribbons…piled high, each precariously perched, awaiting the attention of its new owner. And who can forget 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey' and the
strange places to which the pin would make its way. Stand back! Or you may become the Donkey.
Or perhaps that very first birthday. One high chair, one chocolate cake … and two small hands, delighting in the feel of gliding through frosting … and its amazing ability to stick one thing to another. Eyes wide, hands pulling and tugging…and – miracle that it is – the expert guiding
of such a large chunk of cake into such a small mouth! Even NASA would marvel at such an exquisite display of docking expertise. Flashes of light from the camera that so lovingly captures the moment…to be celebrated over and over again.
That magical day of arrival. The birth of the first child…or the second… or the fifth. Even with repetition, the magic never fades. Each the beginning of a wondrous journey that will bear the unique mark of its creator. Timeless. Even the memory takes your breath away. It seems like only months ago … and look at them now.
Celebrations all. Each unique in its form, its structure, its offerings and its intentions. Each calling forth a hope, a dream, a moment of gratitude. And yet, what is often overlooked in the small silence of its expression is that moment – or those series of moments – that fill us from the inside and happen frequently, from one day to the next.
Like a fine mist, easily overlooked unless you're watching for it. The smile from the gas station attendant. The concerned and thoughtful questions of the pharmacist. The patience of the traveler behind us as we
return from our daydream long after the light has changed. The waitress in the coffee shop who remembers how you like your bagels. The receptionist in the dentist's office who takes a moment to explain to you that your dentist will be late, and offers you a magazine. The stranger in the hospital waiting room who entertains your energetic and restless youngster while you await the results. The pedestrian who stops and makes it possible for you to dart through, just ahead of the endless line of cars.
These too are celebrations. Frequently occurring moments that – if we pay attention to them and honor them - fill our hearts and touch our souls. Moments in which whatever we're wearing, whoever we're with, is just perfect for the occasion. Moments that invite us to feel what it is
to be one human being, in our ordinary-ness, in the presence of another equally ordinary human being, in the creation of a magical moment. If this is not cause for celebration, I don't know what is.
Louise LeBrun
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