Celebration is one of those odd words that gets muddled up with words like “acknowledgment” and “recognition”. Celebrations also get muddled up with ceremonies and formal recognitions by folks who are trying to show they really care, and so high-jack the essence and emotion of a celebration for something that at best can be termed w(h)ine and cheese on someone else’s dime.
Particularly in the work world, celebration is rarely, well, celebratory. Too often the folks putting on the celebration are doing so out of a sense of duty and perhaps respect, trying to convince the honoree and the attendees that this is a work place of choice that cares. And while the motivation is not without merit, the event generally misses the mark of a celebration.
Celebrations never include speeches given by tangentially interested parties. They NEVER include plaques or certificates or plastic-substance items shaped in a pseudo-art form. When I remember the true celebrations I’ve had the delight to be a part of, I remember them from my heart – not from an item that was given or conferred.
My oldest daughter and her new husband swing-dancing their first dance as a newly-married couple to “L-O-V-E”. Try that in a strapless, satin and lace wedding gown or a tuxedo.
A New Orleans jazz band trumpeting (and tromboning) “When the Saints Go Marching In” to celebrate the cut-short life of a colleague while his bereaved wife, with tears streaming down her face, sang along and danced with her hands waving over her head.
My grandson, passing out cupcakes for his daddy’s birthday, being asked “Who else do you think would like a cupcake?” and thoughtfully answering, “ME!”.
My pre-teen niece baking and decorating a wedding cake (with her momma’s help) for my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary – and the pride on their faces to have their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren for all the town to meet.
Doing the “Tuesday Dance” in the office of a colleague who had no more Tuesday chemo-treatments to face. And then the “Wednesday Dance”, and …
A group of colleagues sharing pot-luck and stories about “the hand” and other white elephant tales to wish one of their own bon voyage and good luck.
Hundreds of people gathering and then moving into small groups to listen to the 100+ stories of God’s movement in the lives of those about to “get dunked” in the lake – with all the tears and laughter and a shout of “Freedom!”.
Celebrations? You bet.
What made these events into celebrations? First and foremost, they were gatherings of people who genuinely cared about one another. Even those people who had come out of duty got drawn in to the heart of emotion and joy. Without that core heart, an event is just an event regardless of how beautiful the decorations, how extensive the open bar, or how luscious the dessert buffet.
Second, size doesn’t matter. Some celebrations are HUGE. Some are intensely private. In a similar vein, some celebrations have lavish budgets and some have just a few dollars.
So, what do we celebrate? (thanks for the question today PW) Well, both the ordinary and the extraordinary. The unique and the common. The heart and the soul. Especially when heart and soul infiltrate acknowledgment and recognition to provide a sparkler writing big across the night sky. Less talk, more dancing. Fewer handshakes, more hugs (even if that occurs metaphorically).
Oh. And LOTS of ice cream.
Just Sayin' 