This post was written by Matthew Beck, lead chaplain, Parkview Health.
As a kid, once a year, sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, my grandparents would transform their house into a candy shop.
I always arrived somewhere in the middle of the makeover, and after ringing the doorbell and shouting the customary greeting of “Yoo-hoo!” I would be carried in by a warm welcome and the multitudinous scents of sugar. First, through the garage, where every available flat surface was covered in peanut brittle cooling on parchment paper. Then, into the dining room where warm white chocolate peppermint bark, sprinkled with hand-crushed candy canes lined the dining room table. And, finally, into the kitchen, where spread across countertops were freshly dipped white and dark chocolate-covered pretzels, and on the butcher block, round blobs of caramel were being pressed onto half-pecans, “turtle feet” and “turtle bodies” awaiting their chocolate “turtle shell” bubbling into existence on the stovetop.
While my grandmother’s cookie recipes were well-known and well-guarded, these handmade candies were my grandfather’s specialty, crafted with as much care and expertise as the furniture in his woodshop.
But my favorite creation on candy making day was always the last, and in appearance, the least impressive.
With the bottom-of-the-pot chocolate, leftover pile of peanuts, and the broken pretzels pieces, Grandpa and I would stir up what he called, “nuts and bolts,” a perfect sweet and salty chocolate bark.
These days, in my grandfather’s absence, I keep the tradition alive. But not with scraps. I buy the ingredients to make “nuts and bolts” from the start. It has become my specialty.
And when I make “nuts and bolts,” I remember my grandfather. I think of his clever hands, bushy eyebrows and hiccupping laugh. But most of all, I remember that feeling of being around him: joy. Isn’t that what makes a tradition sweet?
Traditions aren’t just “what we’ve always done.” The best traditions are deliberate, a way of saying “yes” again. Yes, this shared experience is worth repeating. Yes, this place is worth returning to. Yes, these people are worth regathering or worth remembering.
So, don’t just keep your traditions going. Keep them meaningful by reminding yourself of all the “yeses.”
And this year, as you prepare your traditions with deep intention, may you also leave room for surprise. For you never know when the leftover “nuts and bolts” of all your plans, might bring to life a new shared experience worth repeating.
