The celebration of a wedding on this side of my family is rich with tradition. You see, my grandparents were both Czechoslovakian through and through. And for "Bohunks" as they refer to themselves at times...weddings are times to celebrate family, friends, and our heritage.
We gather at the reception and it is time for my favorite of all traditions...the grand march. For those of you wondering what that is...it is the official start of the dance. Couples gather in line to begin a marching dance usually led by the elders in our group. I stand in line with my oldest son...the one who is my partner and he says, "Mom, I don't know what to do." I smile into his baby blues and reply, "Just follow the person in front of you."
The polka begins and off we go, dancing and skipping and laughing. At the end of the march a circle begins to form. A circle of loved ones who form a ring around the new couple. At times throughout the song the circle closes in on the couple...kind of like a group hug. My partner asks, "Are we really supposed to be doing this?" I answer back, "yes, it is the way we show our support and love for them."
Throughout the evening I am reminded of where I come from...in an aunt who now reminds me of my great aunt...in a grandmother who makes five dozen kolaches...in a cousin who can do the chicken dance better than all the rest...in children playing on the dance floor...in the remembering of teen antics...and the notes of a waltz.
All families have a story, a place of origin, traditions they hold dear. God's family does too. You can find them in the worn pages of my favorite book. A story rich in traditions that set us apart as the children of God. Traditions are never meant to be served...but to serve as reminders of who we are and whose we are.
He took some bread and gave thanks to God for it. Then he broke it in pieces and gave it to the disciples, saying, "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this to remember me."--Luke 22: 19