The absolute necessity of unconventional celebrations

What about the smaller occasions that aren't national holidays or family milestones?

It’s a wonder neither of my children became a meteorologist. When they were very young, we had a tradition in our home. If the weather conditions looked just right—that perfect combination of a bit of sunshine peeking through dark and heavy rain clouds, the kids and I would drop everything, load up into the car, and go rainbow hunting. If we spotted a rainbow, we whooped and hollered and immediately went through the nearest fast-food drive-through for ice cream cones. If we didn’t find one, however, we came back home and waited for the next opportunity. Those were the rules of the game. Since we lived in the Pacific Northwest at the time, where winters are predictably dreary, some of those rainbow hunts burned through several gallons of gasoline. We were determined. Rainbow hunts got us through those long winters. When the sun broke through the clouds and cast that gorgeous band of brilliant color across the sky, there was reason to celebrate.

I have always been a fan of finding reasons to celebrate, even if they are not the official occasions like birthdays and bank holidays—especially if they are not the official occasions. I know many folks who go all out for the big holidays, the Hallmark holidays, the anniversaries and birthdays and even half-birthdays. Those things are nice, but in my opinion, the more obscure occasions deserve celebrations too.

Like Pi Day—you know, March 14, the day we celebrate the number known as pi, ever helpful in geometry. The number has—as far as mathematicians know—an infinite number of digits, starting with 3.1415926 etc. Of course, it should be celebrated on March 14, aka 3.14. And of course, one should absolutely consume pie. Doesn’t everyone celebrate like this? When Andy and I were traveling on Pi Day 2015, the most sacred Pi Day in the entire education nerd universe, we made sure to duck into a restaurant and commence eating a slice of pie at precisely 9:26, just so we could photograph the occasion and send it back to our kids. We had pie on 3-14-15 at 9:26. Check the digits. That’s the stuff legends are made of right there, friends.

Celebrating Pi Day 2015, 3.1415926

When the last of the 33 Chilean miners was rescued after the disastrous mine collapse which left them underground for 69 days, I prepared and served a traditional Chilean meal to my family. Around the dinner table, we raised our glasses and chanted CHI-CHI-CHI LE-LE-LE! Los mineros de chile before thanking God for their survival. Such a momentous occasion was important to celebrate.

My youngest child and I had a special song we sang when the first tulip of spring appeared in our garden. We also celebrated the first ripe cherries on the cherry tree and any edible apples we found on the reluctant little apple tree.

Whenever we roadtripped out of state as a family, we celebrated our return to Montana by singing the same cheesy song in the car as we crossed the state line. Sing it with me if you know it; be sure to add your best cowboy twang:

My home’s in Montana

I wear a bandana

My spurs are of silver

My pony is gray

Whatever the weather

You’ll find us together

With foot in the stirrup

We gallop all day

We’re up with the sun

‘Cause there’s work to be done

Yes, the wide open spaces

That’s where we will be

Out here in the West

Is the land we love best

Yes, Montana is home

For my pony and me

I can feel my eldest cringing at the memory—that one was never a fan of this particular raucous celebration. (You’re welcome, hon, for getting this song stuck in your head again after all these years you thought you had escaped it, haha!)

On December 12, 2012, when we were educating at home, we had a family dance party in the living room, complete with carefully planned theme music and freshly baked brownies for refreshments. It took place a little after noon and lasted for precisely one minute. It was a very small party to celebrate the number 12, timed for 12:12 PM on 12-12-12—with my then 12-year-old. You might enjoy the song we played as we be-bopped around the living room and ate our brownies:

Why did we have all these small celebrations? Why not? It doesn’t take much for me to find a reason to celebrate. Celebrations remind us to be grateful. They break the monotony and help us maintain perspective. Most of all, they give us a reason to pause, gather ourselves, and rejuvenate for the tasks that loom ahead.

That is why my husband and I had to eat so many Drumsticks ice cream cones—yes, the ones you buy at the grocery store—over these last several weeks. Every time we hit a milestone in our expedition vehicle build, every time we completed a particularly arduous task, we stopped to celebrate. We had to pause so we could remember to be grateful, break the monotony, reassess, and prepare for whatever is next. “Ice cream for strength!” I would call out, and we would sit on the deck with our weary muscles and our store-bought frozen treats and remind ourselves of why we are working so hard.

We, but especially Andy, who bears on his broad shoulders the lion’s share of the labor, have been working like mad, putting in at least as many hours as we ever worked as teachers, oftentimes more, if you can believe that. We have kept going until well after dark most every night, constantly rearranging assorted shop lights clipped to ladders and sawhorses, extension cords running this way and that so we can see what we are doing. Dinner time has averaged between 8:00 and 9:30 PM, after which we just collapse into bed. So much for this lazy retirement thing.

But . . . but . . . you guys.

Look what we have built so far.

It is not done yet, and a monumental celebration will come then, but we are getting so close. This will be our new home. We are leaving everything behind we have ever known. We have sold it all and are setting out to travel the world—full-time, for the foreseeable future—in this beefy ray of sunshine. Traveling in this truck as nomads will be our new life.

But it is hard work to build a camper from scratch. There was no kit, no set of plans, not even any background or experience between us. There was only a simple used telecommunications service truck, my husband’s brilliant brain and unbounded optimism, a lot of graph paper and time spent on YouTube and Google Sketch-Up, and piles and piles of raw materials and parts. Oh, and an Instant Pot filled with soup.

It’s been a fairly overwhelming and exhausting task—both physically and mentally—and it has come in the midst of so many other fairly overwhelming things in our life that don’t get airtime here or pretty little photos on social media. Our public lives tend to be pretty well-curated, don’t they?

This is why we need to celebrate often—more often than the big dates already marked on the calendar. Because life is hard sometimes, and like Ferris Beuller so wisely said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” The celebrations are the stopping and looking around, the break to breathe and take it all in, to see how far you’ve come and prepare for what is still ahead.

The frenzied pace of the last few weeks, trying to make our travel rig weatherproof before winter sets in, has called for front porch ice cream celebrations almost daily. It’s not our normal lifestyle, and it’s not sustainable long-term, but it has been an essential part of our lives as of late.

The same was true for a silly party to celebrate 12-12-12 at 12:12. It was only a week more until Christmas Break and my kids and I were tired of school. We needed a small celebration to hold us over until the bigger one.

Pi Day came every year right before Spring Break. Same scenario.

The first tulip of the year had to be celebrated, even if there was a dusting of snow on it, because it marked the hope of spring. The same as the rainbow hunts that broke the monotony of the PNW Gray.

We must celebrate, friends.

Remember the parables Jesus taught? Remember the shepherd with a hundred sheep when he realized one had gone missing? He searched for that one percent of his flock and when he found it, he carried it back to the fold and called together his buddies to celebrate. One percent seems small, but it was reason enough for a party. Remember the woman who had lost one of her ten valuable coins, ten percent of her life savings? She turned her house upside down until she found it, then called her neighbors to come over and rejoice with her. Ten percent was definitely worth celebrating. The next one in the series, about a man who loses one of his two sons—fifty percent of his offspring—gets a little trickier. The rebellious son returns but his brother, bitter and jealous, refuses to celebrate. It’s complicated.

I think celebrating the small things puts us in the right frame of mind for celebrating when the bigger things come up. When we have recognized with gratitude the small victories, it keeps us humble and full of child-like wonder.

I would love to hear what it is you celebrate or have celebrated, outside of the big dates on the calendar. What do your smaller celebrations look like? Let’s share our joys, from the one-percent size on up. For Andy and me, this week, it is getting fiberglass and paint onto a camper. Come celebrate with us, friends!

(I am sorry this next section did not make it into the audio track.)

P.S. Speaking of celebrating, I want to celebrate three of my faithful readers here. I don’t recognize all of your email addresses, and some of you I don’t know at all, but these three are regulars around these parts and I am grateful.

One of my friends from back in our teenage years married Allison Kealy, and I am so glad he did. She and I don’t know each other really well, but she has opened her home for my family to come and stay with them a couple of times when we are passing through their area. I admire her generous and hospitable mindset, as well as her spirit of adventure and obvious intelligence. She is one smart cookie! She seems to be just the right partner for my old friend, and she is a faithful reader here. Thanks, Allison.

When Andy and I were teachers at North Salem High School in Oregon, there was another teacher pair on staff, and Rena Lewis was half of it. When we left our jobs, we did not have to give up their friendship. I appreciate Rena’s down-to-earth, matter-of-fact mentality, as well as her willingness to work hard to create a positive environment for the students in her care. Rena and her husband have come out to visit us in Montana twice and we share a love of travel and camping adventures. Thanks for reading, Rena.

My cousin, Annette Hudson, is someone I can always count on for a level-headed, Christ-centered approach to life. She has a humble, non-fussy sense of adventure and an easy-going nature that I admire. She cares for people in practical ways and regularly goes above and beyond what should be expected of her. Plus, our husbands are cut from the same cloth, so we have had much in common over the years. Thanks for sticking with me, Annette, despite all the craziness that sometimes (often) surrounds us both.

Until next week,

Sherry