Traditions When You're Tired

I pushed aside a pile of school papers in an organizing spree the other day (having just returned from a spring break trip to the temporary space we are living in, disorder barely began to describe the state of things) to reveal a printed out, half-colored “Alleluia” banner. The one that was supposed to be buried on Shrove Tuesday.

Just like we were supposed to bake soft pretzels.

Just like we were supposed to keep up with that devotional.

And fill up the alms jar.

And water our resurrection garden (we’re planting it this weekend, promise!)

But here’s the thing…

I’m tired.

Like really tired.

We have four children eight and under, including a nursing baby and a toddler who counts as at least three additional children (bless her). We are renovating our home (this is a massive undertaking—effectively a full-time job). We’re at the height of everything in the life of a young family: babies! toddlers! school! work! friends! house stuff! We are still young but not that young. We are living our life and making a life, building this plane as it flies.

It’s full and beautiful and exhausting.

And while I believe—truly and deeply—that the traditions and family culture we build in the little years can uphold a family of faith for generations, there needs to be a back-up plan for when going full-throttle in this area is simply not an option.

Ever since my twenties, I’ve been a fearful flyer. (God, with His sense of humor and tendency to place us in situations in which we must rid ourselves of silly fears, once had me flying to Cambodia in a typhoon on September 11…) Yet, it gives me strange confidence to know that planes were designed to be able to keep flying even if, say, one engine catches on fire, or something. This scenario is, of course, far from ideal (I mean, could you imagine…) but there are plans in place to keep everything moving forward and get to the destination.

When intense seasons of life happen—when there is a new baby, or a household sickness that never seems to end, or a family tragedy or crisis, or extensive work travel and on and on—it is important to have a stripped down, pared back version of your family traditions to turn to. To hone in on what is most important, to your children, to you, and to the memories you are making together as a family.

Just like our plane example with the flaming engine (just writing this makes me sweat), this family culture contingency plan might be far from ideal. Not something to strive for, but something good enough. Something that keeps your family on track and headed to the destination that is the vision you uphold for life together.

A few thoughts to this end in the form of three strategies we lean on in less-than-ideal seasons:

First, know what matters most to your kids— I can’t tell you the number of times I have asked my children what they love most about this season or that holiday and their response absolutely floors me. What? I do all these intentional things and you only remember how we did this other, seemingly small and random thing?

What matters to you may not matter to them, which does not mean you should abandon all other traditions and efforts in favor of their little desires (you are, after all, steering the ship of your family’s culture), but it can shed light on what should be prioritized in harder seasons.

A couple of weeks ago was my daughter’s half birthday, a day we try to celebrate in some small fun way since a year is so long for a little kid to wait for their next big day. I had cinnamon rolls sorted for breakfast and was planning to make homemade Chipwiches for dessert. A herculean effort, it seemed, in my own weary eyes. Yet, as I got up from my work on the couch and tidied a few final toys before heading up to bed, I paused by the breakfast table in our rental home—bare, bland, and not ours. I put myself in her shoes (Emily Phillips writes beautifully on the practice of doing so here) and imagined her nightgown clad, Belle-loving, 8.5 year old self walking groggily downstairs in the morning, so excited to finally be eight and a HALF only to sit down for breakfast as this bare, unfamiliar table and then promptly mustered five minutes’ worth of energy to hang a little flag banner across the window behind, throw on a cream table cloth with sweet pink flowers, put a little vase of tulips and daffodils in the middle (sorry, Lent!) and printed off a “Happy 1/2 Birthday” sign I made in less than two minutes on Canva to lean against it.

She was utterly delighted in the morning, made to feel like the precious treasure she is to our family and to God. And I felt a little less like a garbage mom for not getting to the soft pretzels and the Alleluia banner (ha!)

Now, lest you assume I’m preaching works-based motherhood with a side of guilt-ridden night sweats, dear reader I am not.

I’m simply suggesting that there is an inherently rewarding feeling to having cared well for your family, made them feel known and loved and produced those glowing, golden moments that make up a childhood memory bank so joyful, so rich that their little hearts will have no choice but to praise the Lord for the home life He gave to them.

Second, lower barriers to entry — The only reason I was able to pull off a very last-minute 1/2 birthday celebration for my daughter was because I was (relatively) prepared. We have a birthday box filled with banners and crowns, silver candle holders, balloons and various other heirloom-quality decor that we can use again and again, eliminating the need for last-minute Amazon orders while at the same time helping to craft the childhood birthday nostalgia that comes only from faithful repetition — of traditions, of decor, of meals and of prayers. I also make it a habit to keep a record of the traditions we do for every celebration— liturgical or otherwise— around the year, along with notes for next year. This takes the form of a binder, divided seasonally, that I can reference and add to year over year with the things we always do from recipes to outings to gatherings to liturgies surrounding various holy days and holidays.

And we’re still building! With every year of repeated traditions and memories made, it gets easier and easier to keep them going as the rhythms of our year together as a family in our communities becomes increasingly on autopilot.

Finally, refrain from the need or desire to constantly reinvent the wheel — At the risk of sounding like a broken record, so much of creating faith-filled and meaningful traditions is there for us in the historical rhythms of the church year. In any given season, you can take or leave any given tradition, but they will be right there for you to pick up the next year or the year after that.

The tradition of burying the Alleluia isn’t going anywhere, and our faithful observance of the resurrection as a family certainly isn’t dependent on us engaging in that fun little tradition. Christian traditions are there to enhance our devotions, to draw us deeper into the story of Christ in the context of community, and the cycles of light and life will be there next year to remind us and to invite us into participation in traditions of old.

Similarly, when we are weary from the day-to-day of a stressful season, tried-and-true traditions that have been practiced for hundreds of years are easy to reach for. There are an increasing number of writers and creators who are creating books and bodies of work dedicated to liturgical living, offering a robust suite of ideas and inspiration to draw from in moments of either quiet desperation or when inspiration and energy levels may spike.

Regardless of the season of life in which you and your family find yourselves, the traditions we keep should be a natural overflowing and reflection of the love and warmth and faith the home is built upon, and it is only then when the things we always do are able to morph seamlessly into memories that will bolster and encourage the faithful hearts of our children when they are grown and have families of their own.

Tell me, what are your best memory making hacks in hard seasons? Share in the comments below!