Choose to Celebrate

Will celebrations be bigger and “better” this year?

Recently, as I scrolled through social media, I noticed a friend’s comment on a birthday celebration photo of her daughter. The comment said, “She deserves this.”

As I looked at the smiling face of my friend’s daughter, I wondered what the comment meant. Of course, with the pandemic framing my perspective, I thought about missed opportunities to celebrate. Do her parents feel they must make up for the smaller celebrations (or lack thereof) during lockdowns and quarantines?

Similarly, “revenge travel” refers to vacationers who spend more and stay longer after being stuck at home. Perhaps that is what people are doing with celebrations.

I have a poor history with birthday parties. Neither of my children had the classic turning-one-year-old party. Since we’ve spent more time moving than staying still, I didn’t feel like we had the community to have a big celebration when either of my kids was little. I also reasoned that they wouldn’t remember such a celebration.

However, when my son turned three, his only request was for a birthday party. No special food. No gifts. Just a birthday party. Two months prior, we had moved into a new community, and we only had a handful of friends. So we blew up a water jump castle, invited neighbors and the few friends we knew, and hoped someone would show up.

Two families came—one came late, and the other family left early, but we had a party. My son was thrilled.

No matter how elaborate or simple, there’s something about celebrations that brings joy.

I admit, celebrating anniversaries and holidays, especially the last couple of years, has been hard for me. Instead of enticing me to celebrate big, unpredictability has kept me in my bubble. I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything. It doesn’t seem like I have a lot to celebrate.

But as I examine Scripture, I see in Leviticus 23 how God ordained time in the Israelites’ yearly calendar to celebrate. As an agricultural community, these celebrations were natural pauses after heavy times of seasonal labor.

There was the weekly celebration of the Sabbath, a day for rest. There were times for thanksgiving and offering of first fruits. There was a time for fasting—a time to reflect, to ask for atonement.

Although the traditions have shifted through the years, all the Jewish holidays mentioned in the text (plus Purim and Hanukkah, which were established after Leviticus was written) involve remembering what God had done.

Remembrance is a common thread throughout Scripture. God gave Noah a rainbow to remember his covenant (Genesis 9:13). Joshua built a monument of stones to remember the crossing of the Jordan River (Joshua 4:20-24). Jesus told the disciples at the last supper to “do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19).

Remembrances are common in the Psalms as well. David cries out to God in a dark season of his life in Psalm 143. Verse 5 says:

I remember the days of long ago;

I meditate on all your works

and consider what your hands have done.

As I study these passages, I see no prerequisites for remembering. There is no “If you’re in the mood to celebrate, remember . . .” or “Since you have the time, pause to remember . . .”

How often have I missed the opportunity to celebrate all that God has done in my life?

This year, I choose to celebrate.

December 26 comes, and I pull out the Christmas tote. One by one, I gather the decorations from around the house and repack. There aren’t many. As we moved from place to place to place, I’ve kept my decorations contained to one box.

I like simple.

Some people choose a word to propel them forward in the new year. This year, I’ve selected an action: to celebrate. As I look at the calendar, I know myself enough to know that I’m not going to become a Pinterest party star. (Although, if this is you, I love going to your parties!) I won’t suddenly serve five-course celebration meals, but celebrations do warrant a break from our everyday routine.

When holidays, anniversaries, and birthdays come, I want to pull out the pictures. Tell the stories. Blow up some balloons and declare a recess from our daily routine. My children won’t remember every day of their childhoods, but we can mark the passing of seasons with a pause. Even when the world feels upside down, I want to lift my eyes heavenward and remember what God has done. I will choose to celebrate.

Perhaps you want to join me? Let’s not celebrate in order to be “bigger and better” this year, but to honor God in remembering all he has brought us through and to look forward to the day we will be reunited with him.

Ashley Shannon is a wife, mother, and self-appointed adventure curator. As a lifelong learner, she enjoys exploring the Midwest where she lives and painting her experience of motherhood with words.