Traditional Non-Traditionalism

I think that Traditional Non-Traditionalist sums me up in a nut shell.  

I truly take comfort in traditions and certain ways of doing things because generations of my family have done it that way.  I also find value in traditional ways of doing things that we've forgotten about in our modern world.  I spent most of my adolescence and young adult life bucking the system, rejecting the status quo and defying authority. But, I didn't realize that by doing this, I was also rejecting part of who I was, which is why I kept searching for more.

This past year my grandmother died.  And I've written about watching her journey through Alzheimer's. It was also a special time seeing all of her children return to the place where they were born and most of them were raised.  

It was interesting to see how they all fit together and how we all fit together.  I'm not tall, skinny or have "the face" of the rest of them.  I didn't get the laugh that when other people are present they say, "You are all so much alike!"  But, I have the peaceful way I like things, I aim to be thoughtful and nice, and I have the dark sense of humor.  I also quiet right up when things get a little tough, so much so, people never know what I am going through or thinking.

I had divorced 5 months before Grandma died.  So, it was odd to me that I wanted to go back to church and the very conservative church I grew up in, no less, at a time I was experiencing some significant loss in my life. And some things, the church does not approve of, but I don't approve of everything they do, either. I still don't easily accept status quo, you see. 

I think I am fortunate to know two people whom I would consider active members of reform.  They have helped me realize that there is a place for everyone in the catholic church.  I'm not sure where I became of the opinion that it was a place for only the experts.  I thought it was only for the people who had their beliefs all figured out.  But, it is a place to learn.  And I don't become overwhelmed by those wanting you to "really belong."  I have had a few of those experiences as well with other places I tried to belong - it is all or nothing.  That's too much for me.  And having grown up watching my aunt devote her entire life to service as a nun, I deeply respect that. 

Going back to it being part of who I am.  We were the type of family who often had priests and nuns over for dinner.  It was so deeply engrained in the Germans who settled here in the late 1800's.  You can see that by the various small rural townships established for the purpose of building a church and a school.  Some as close to town as a couple of miles and most of the churches still standing or in use today.  My own family donated the land 12 miles from here for this purpose.  You centered your life around your immediate community and gave thanks.  

No matter where I was in the world, I always thought of "home" being where my clan hailed from. And no matter where I was, there seemed to be a tie back to my home town.  Even the president of Afghanistan was brought here at one time to see this special community.

I began to fear that because of my own selfishness, my children would never experience the sense of feeling they belonged somewhere like I did and that they were part of something bigger than themselves.  Sometimes, you don't know this until you are older and it's much later in life.  I think knowing you are part of something greater drives us to become a stand out when there are so many of us in a clan.  But, I realized it's also my responsibility to provide this for them.  No one else is going to do this.

So, even if no one else understands what I am trying to establish for my children and their legacy, I feel as though I received confirmation that I'm doing the right thing on Easter Sunday.  We were attending a larger church in a nearby city this year.  We arrived right as mass was beginning, of course, there was no good seating to be found.  So, as we walked in at the last minute, the priest was getting ready to enter.  He saw me, leaned over and whispered that the front pew had been accidentally reserved, so we should follow the usher and have the front row seats.  And it was nice, because mass can be long for young children, it's hard for them to take meaning, but when they can see the band, the singers, and each thing happening on the altar, it makes a huge difference.

He didn't know me, we just happened to be there at the right time.  It was just as though we were being guided in.