There is an annual event that our Italian family attends every year. It centers around Mass, family, food and friends. It is always held on the second Sunday in August, always. It is a festival that commemorates and celebrates the patron saint from the little town in Italy where my husband's family immigrated from.
St. Ippolito, Italy, is a small town or more like a village, in the southern west part of the country. From all the pictures I've seen and the stories I have heard, it sounds like a wonderful place to visit. From the wonderful smells coming from the ladies kitchens, to the piazzas where men gather to play bocce. Someday we will go to wander the same streets and see the same sites as my husband's ancestors did. I want to attend Mass in the little church where his grandparents were married. But for now, this yearly festival will have to serve as a way to reconnect with family and friends who are of the same heritage.
Our family's cooking for the festival actually starts several days in advance. The menu rarely changes from one year to the next. Each of my husband's siblings are responsible for bringing dishes to pass. Each family contributes the same itmes as they have in the past. You see, this wonderful family does not like change. Which is fine, it really does make planning easier. My husband and I bring lasagna, meatballs and desserts. The others bring dishes to fill in the rest of the menu.
The Mass is usually said by the Bishop of the Lansing Diocese, and is always a reflection of the struggles and accomplishments of this communities forefathers that brought them to this great country of America.
After Mass is over there is a parade where men, young and old, carry the statue of St. Ippolito through the grounds of the church and families follow in solidarity to the reverence of their beloved saint. When St Ippolito is ceremoniously placed in the center of the lawn, all that are gathered on these grounds commence in a huge picnic. All of the different Italian families sit together under the shade of massive trees to share the meals they brought. Each family sits in the same area as the year before, because it is tradition.
There are games for the kids, raffles for the adults and souvenirs or trinkets for sale. The Italian ice stand is always a big hit. I know these are my boys favorite things to do. They are getting old enough now that they are helping to run games and sit at the merchandise table.
As an adult, the festival is about catching up with old friends and reuniting with family that you haven't seen since the last year's festival.
My favorite thing to do is to walk around and observe how each family intertacts and to listen to the older generation speak in the beautiful language that is Italian. It warms my heart to see and hear so many people communicate with such fluidity, in words that I cannot understand, in a cadence that seems to be a melody. To learn to speak Italian is on my bucket list.
I love that the St. Ippolito Festival is held on the grounds of a beautiful old country Catholic Church in the middle of nowhere, complete with a quiet little cemetery across the street. The grounds are serene, surrounded by trees that have been there since the church was built. When driving up the road and seeing the steeple when cresting the hill always fills me with joy. There is no feeling like that of anticipation and excitement.
Each year I slip away for a few moments to the cemetery to look at the beautiful headstones and to what I like to call Mary's garden. It's just a simple little space that is devoted to the Queen Mother of our savior, Jesus Christ.
I do love old churches. I think it is because of the architecture and atmosphere and knowing that generations of families have gathered there before me. But I think what draws me most of all is the beautiful stained glass windows. The images are so amazing when the sun shines through the colored glass, telling stories of Christ's life. Whether full of joy or sorrow, the story leads us on the path of His footsteps. To me, this is the most wonderful journey of all.
I know that everyone has their own traditions and reunions, but I love that my husband's family celebrate their culture on this day. That their relationship with Christ comes first and foremost in a day and age when religion seems to be fading away. I am grateful to be associated with such a deep and meaningful community that puts the love of God and family above all else.
This time together with such kind and loving people really does show that God and family truly are the best things in life.
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