Relationships

A tradition is a story or a custom that is memorized and passed down from generation to generation.  The role of being a steward of tradition is to be responsible for handing over, passing on beliefs or customs with finesse taught by one generation to the next.

Within the tradition, there is always a lot of talking, sharing and I am going to tell you about love and bonding in times of need.  About making love grow strong.

There is nothing like a birth or death in a family to evoke huge emotion.  I am going to share how by loving one another, we can grow strong.  The one thing that makes the world go round is love.  Without love in the world, we would be completely lost.

I am going to share a simple tradition of our family one of sharing and gently celebrating new beginnings of life, special occasions and also a tradition of celebrating endings of life.  I am going to tell you about an old white linen sheet, hole in the end, embroidered by hand, over 100 years old.  When washed this sheet smells of nature.  Rainwater, dried by the long fingers of the sun, as if the breeze has permeated itself into the very being of the sheet.  A fragrance natural and pure.  Think of sunlight soap.

And when I bury my head in this sheet, it evokes memories – stories that have been passed down from generation to generation.  It evokes a gorgeous special tradition of sharing, caring, and celebrating.  It evokes memories which float in and then there are memories of tears, bittersweet tears of joy and sadness signifying beginnings and endings.

This is my story of the old antique sheet.

Every time I returned home with a new baby, I rushed into my bedroom and sure enough, my mother had not let me down.  There on the bed was this special sheet.  It was slightly rough to the skin as only 100% linen is.  I always loved this sheet against my skin.

I had that sheet on my bed four times and to me it signified new beginnings, a celebration of a life just beginning, a journey where in many ways I was a spectator once the life had arrived.  The last time the sheet was on my bed, I had three other children who sat with me, gazing in wonder at the new life that would enrich our lives.

We talked and shared and my children learnt about loving and bonding.  They were always very proud of the new life that had been presented to us.  As a family with my husband and mother, we shared and talked and drank cups of tea.  We felt blessed.  We were creating a tradition.

Years went by, my mother came to live with us, my children grew up and my mother who had shared many gifts of loving and sharing with us for seventeen years was getting weaker.  Mum was coming to the end of her journey.  My children loved her as a mother and early in my life I had learnt to share her with many.  It was my privilege.  She taught us about making love grow strong.

I said to my children, it was a time to celebrate her life and remember.  It was time to get out the old sheet.  We unfolded it and lovingly wrapped it around her delicate frame.  My children and I sadly watched my mother as she grew weaker and weaker.  Her journey ended gently and we felt blessed to have had her in our life.  The old sheet was taken off her bed and I washed it and put it away in the linen cupboard.

Five years went past.  My husband was extremely ill.  He had been a brave soldier.  With the tradition of loving and bonding, my children and I nursed my husband to the end of his journey.  It was our privilege and yes, the old sheet was on his bed.  I stroked the sheet and remembered.

My eldest daughter married twelve months ago and when she returned home, yes, the old sheet was on her bed.  She felt blessed.  My baby daughter was married in February and her husband has returned to London.  She will take the old sheet with her and she will feel blessed.

This month my eldest daughter celebrated her first wedding anniversary and this week I am getting the old sheet ready to celebrate a new life, waiting to start its journey, a life still not here.  Their baby, my grandchild and my children’s niece or nephew.  And with family around, stories will be shared, a new tradition, a new beginning of a life to be celebrated.

A few weeks have passed since I wrote these words and I am delighted to tell you that my little granddaughter Eloise Violetta arrived safely and yes, when my daughter, her husband and daughter arrived home from the hospital, the white starched sheet was on their bed.  With gratitude we all quietly remembered.  It was our tradition.

In life take time to create a tradition, your tradition, it doesn’t have to be a big thing, but something that your family can be proud of, something that your family can pass down to their children, something special, simple like a family picnic or a favorite holiday spot, something that will make your children proud to be a member of your family.  What does tradition mean.

It can mean memories, feelings, excitement, welling up of emotions, reasoning of the moment, time to reflect, time to wait and listen to our elders, as they show us their ways, the ways that we will take on board, movement in a family, the handing over of the reigns, a new generation learning, listening, taking on boards their responsibilities for the future, pride, smiling, laughter, tears, all part and parcel of making a tradition, reenacting history of long ago to bring history into the present day.

The other day, the old sheet was out again.  My daughter lost her baby but it did not make the baby less important.  It was a life that did not make it.  When she came home from the hospital, there was a red balloon to greet my daughter and her husband and yes, on the bed there was the old sheet.  It was once again a time of sharing and loving in sad times and recognising the importance of supporting each other.

Our old sheet is now back in the linen cupboard, waiting for a new event when it will take part in another tradition, the simple tradition of our family sharing and bonding and making love grow strong.

By Janet Hadfield    25th February 2009      New Zealand