On Celebration

China plate moments and nature's confetti.

My grandma insisted on buying me Fine China for my wedding. I can’t say that I leaned one way or the other, but it was important to her. I remember being on the phone with my mom and explaining that I didn’t think I’d use it much (we ate on paper plates growing up). One lesson I learned from Grammy that year was, “The giver decides the gift,” and this seemed to be a gift she was sure I would want, whether I realized it or not. After a lengthy deliberation at Dillard’s, I chose a timeless silver pattern, and Grammy gifted me a very nice set as a wedding gift.

For a long time, I didn’t use China much at all. I wasn’t the one hosting holidays, and that was the only time I would think of using it. After my mom died, I began hosting the major holiday dinners for my family, and wouldn’t you know it, the China came out.

I must admit that when I used it, seeing the food I had prepared and plated brought me joy. If I’m being honest, the reason I didn’t use it wasn’t because it took any additional effort to wash (I picked a dishwasher-friendly plate, because, obviously) or because I couldn’t access it (it’s stored in our dining room courtesy of a lovely China cabinet I found on Facebook marketplace). I didn’t use it because it seemed like “too much.” It seemed like I was “trying too hard.” It felt “over the top.” What was one thing I didn’t want to be? Over the top. “Very demure, very mindful.”

Fast forward to 2018. We had new neighbors in our cul-de-sac, and they insisted Chris and I come to their annual Oktoberfest party donned in a dirndl and lederhosen. I can count the number of costumes I owned at this point in my life: it was ZERO. However, to support these new friends, I made the purchases on Amazon and prepared to party. Here’s the thing I didn’t expect about this party: it was VERY FUN. Here’s another thing I didn’t expect about this party: they used their wedding china to serve fried chicken, pretzels, and sausages to over 50 people.

Upon seeing the plates stacked high, I remember thinking in disbelief: “WHAT IS SHE DOING? THIS IS A WEEK’S WORTH OF DISHES.” When I asked my neighbor about why they use the wedding china for a party, she was very logical about the whole thing: “Why not use it? We have it; we might as well use it! It doesn’t take much to run the dishwasher.” This was a mic drop moment in the middle of my cul-de-sac: I no longer needed to save the china for special occasions.

Every moment is a china plate moment. Having breath in our lungs is a gift. I want to celebrate the small and big moments while I still can, and I no longer care about appearing to be “too much.” Why do we so often suppress joy and excitement when something is worth celebrating?

There are a million ways to celebrate the magic in our everyday messes. Sometimes that means busting out the china for peanut butter toast; other times, that means buying pumpkin-themed paper plates on Halloween because, again, dishes. In the world’s constant pull toward decay, I want to be someone who notices moments worth celebrating, calls them out, and cherishes them alongside the people I love.

Here in Kansas City, the trees sigh, releasing their leaves every time a breeze blows through. The trail I traverse every day is now covered in nature’s confetti - a smattering of honey yellow, ruby red, and fiery orange underneath my feet. Nature isn’t going into winter without a final hurrah. The trees seem to celebrate, too.

One thing I’ve learned while raising daughters is that there’s nothing “too much” about making things more beautiful. Here’s to celebrating the everyday moments that make our days magical.