A couple of weeks ago, I attended a family reunion in Ohio. This was the 100th year our extended family had met at the same location, time, and date (second Sunday in August). It was a big deal, and thanks to the extraordinary planning efforts of my cousins and second cousins, there was a paddy wagon ride, piñata, and cotton candy for the kids (and the kids-at-heart) and an opportunity for the adults to share genealogy information and stories about relatives we knew and loved. While typical attendance at each annual reunion was probably around 30 people, the 100-year celebration had 94 in attendance. Whether it was because we found out how gathering together can be shut down, thanks to the pandemic, or because we wanted the chance to see relatives we hadn’t seen for years, we understood the importance of this milestone. We were creating history, at least for our extended family, and we were honoring those we loved who weren’t there to share in our joy.

You might think that our extended family was one of those rare groups that never experienced conflict, gossip, and backbiting. And you would be wrong. Our extended family is probably pretty typical, but here’s the secret: when you’re focused on the long game, it makes it easier to overlook the small, petty stuff. Maybe even the not-so-small, not-so-petty stuff. For this 100-year celebration, we knew we were part of something that had been going on for a long time and hopefully would continue after us. We wanted to participate in that because we somehow knew that when life ends, what continues on are the relationships we’ve built, living on through the stories loved ones tell.

So we have new stories to share, and we’ve kept alive the stories about those who have passed on. We’ve eaten our fill of cotton candy and given the paddy wagon a little push when its belt broke, and we won’t need to go trick-or-treating this year, thanks to the piñata. But most importantly, we’ve invested time in something bigger than ourselves, and that feels pretty good.