My family is not like any other family. (trust me I’ve spent a lot of time with them). There are no holiday traditions. I realized that traditions don’t especially have to come from holidays. Traditions in our family stems from routine. When I lived at home, this routine was dull and boring. Now I can’t wait to visit home to feel the comfort of our simple traditions.
There is one mealtime routine (turned tradition) that I will someday enjoy with a family of my own. This tradition has been going as long as I can possibly remember, I like to think that it started when my parents first married.
Every meal the family sits down together and starts with a silent prayer before anyone dares take a bite. When mom thinks the prayer has been long enough all the children (about twelve and under) say Lord bless this food for Jesus sake Amen. Then its eating time Thursday nights (my noodle hating older sisters least favorite night) is my fathers favorite its spaghetti night. He swears to this day that no one makes spaghetti like my mom.
If we turn our backs dad is sneaking a bite or two off of our plates. The table is full of conversation and laughter. The conversation usually centered around the families dairy farm. Bringing up inappropriate subjects such as cow manure and cows giving birth was not uncommon.
On winter nights, as individual plates get emptied we make our way to the wood stove (not entirely environmentally friendly but cheap and comforting) When the matriarch is finished she drags a chair over along with the worn family Bible, we sit quietly in the familiar warmth as she reads a chapter or two. As she closes the Bible everyone closes their eyes and bows their head for final thanks and moms voice says softly Lord we thank thee, again the children finish, Lord we thank thee for this food for Jesus sake Amen.
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