tulip time is here, let's go dutch!

SO, this last week was Tulip Time, my town's annual celebration of its Dutch heritage. And it got me thinking about more than just wooden shoes and yummy Dutch pastries.

There is a lot to be said for a tight-knit community.  One that celebrates together, and makes amazing memories.  Tradition can be a beautiful frame to highlight the generations growing up together in a place.  I'm glad my kids can already, at young ages, remember past Tulip Times and their own parts in them.

But that same tight-knit camaraderie can leave newcomers puzzling out the foreign language of cultural expectations.  My husband's family is Dutch, and I've lived here for seven years.  My husband and I work in the biggest church in town, and as such, have had an easier time making connections and fitting in.  Still, we are no strangers to the feeling of being... strangers.  Not because people here are unfriendly!  But because when you try to become part of traditions and histories that are generations old, you are just run smack into your own ignorance of said traditions.  We've marched in the parades, eaten the food, and even tried weaseling our way into the Dutch Family Singers (only slightly set back by the birth of our third son, right in the middle of the rehearsal weeks leading up to the festival. He didn't want to miss Tulip Time, I guess).

And I still end up feeling clueless and silly.  Why is it that families are invited to march in costume with their babies as part of the "baby parade" but you can't find information posted about what time or where to meet... it's just kinda word of mouth?  And I'm standing in the middle of the street wondering where the other baby parade moms are?

Why is it that a community founded by persecuted seekers of religious freedom now touts, however tongue-in-cheek, the phrase, "If you're not Dutch, you're not much"?

And, why is it that when I get ahold of Dutch costumes and take pictures of my kids in front of the tulips, I always mess the costumes up somehow?  Like last year when I proudly displayed pics of my kids on facebook, "like all the other moms," I found out via a kind and gently worded message sent to my private inbox, that what I'd thought was a strange little vest for my daughter's costume was actually a strange little dickie, worn under the dress. Because it was a costume representing the Vander Zuider Tootenflueten Farfel Province, or some such thing.  Oops! My bad! That's not at all like wearing your undergarments on the outside, is it!  Um, don't answer that.

This year: G's hat band is pulled down. His shirt is not tucked in.
F's hat ties are supposed to be untied, hanging down? Oops! 

What brings me back around is the honest friendly fun that is at the heart of the hoopla.  We've never had to buy costumes for our kids; families have been generous to loan the (expensive) items to us.  There is so much hard work behind the huge event, literally 150,000 people come to a festival hosted by a town of 10,000 (ish).  It's a wonder it's as organized and inclusive as it is.  Many of our town's businesses survive because of this celebration and the tourists it brings, and people pitch in countless unpaid hours in every sort of menial task to make it happen.  I only hope that our churches can remember- that I can remember- that traditions and histories are best used when coupled with invitations and grace and love to the people who are, for whatever reason, on the outside of those cultural codes. I'm often so busy with my own awkward dog-paddle of cultural survival, I stink at thinking of others. Truth is, you don't have to be Dutch to be much, and really you can't be much, to have Jesus anyway.

I took our annual photos two nights ago of the kids in full regalia.  In front of the tulips that were finally blooming, now that the festival is over and the snow has melted.  And unlike other years where I found myself snarling through gritted teeth, "Just look at the camera! No! Put your hat back on! Why are you poking your sister!  That's not a real smile!  NO WE CAN NOT GO HOME UNTIL I GET A GOOD PHOTO!" I decided to relax.  Make it as fun as possible and take pics of the kids doing their thing around the tulips and just celebrate the real- take what I could get and go home.  The kids had a blast.  The next night we were talking and G asked what the word "paradise" meant having heard it on TV.  After we talked a bit, he said, "Yeah, that's kinda like Tulip Time pictures!  That was a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be!"

Winner winner chicken dinner!