This has been a summer of family connection. A trip to Idaho in July (my paternal family) and this past week, another to Maine (my maternal family). I’ve traveled more to see family since my parents passed away than in all my adult years combined. Why is it that it often takes a great loss to realize the importance of family? It’s a reminder that time is fickle—we never know how much of it we have nor what the quality of it may be. Unlike my sisters’ children, mine are grown and scattered (geographically) so I don’t see them as often as I’d like. I can pout about it (which I do at times) and nag my kids home, or I can be grateful for the time I have to focus on my extended family.
It was serendipitous that my plans to visit my Maine cousins happened to be at the same time as a family wedding (and no, we didn’t crash it, we were invited), so more were in town than normal. Two of the ten were unable to make it, but there were still eight of them with whom to reconnect. These cousins are earthly orphans as are my siblings and I—meaning, we’ve all lost our parents— the shepherds who hold the flock together. Without them, we’re a little like chaotic (busy) sheep focused on our own separate lives. Being scattered throughout the country doesn’t help. Just like my own sisters live far apart, my Maine cousins don’t actually all live in Maine anymore.
It’s not unusual to hear of estranged siblings or even a parent estranged from his/her grown child—a perceived hurt or betrayal is all it takes to disown one’s family member. And often, regret comes too late. Once a person leaves this earth, we can’t make peace with him or her. Unforgiveness is a bitter poison and destroys one’s testimony. I’ve been blessed with sisters (and my brother before his death) who know the true value of family. There were five of us. My mom only had only one sibling (a sister) who had ten children (my Maine cousins). This is a family who has known pain and loss, and yet every one of them walks with the Lord—and in unity with each other. They bore each other’s pain and lift them in prayer and love. They make family a priority—a model for all of us.
How hard is it to pick up the phone, send a text or email or an occasional card? I’m asking myself these questions. The days pass by in a blur and another year is gone. Then another. And another. Some of my cousins connect with each other every day. Every. Day. And yet it takes me weeks and weeks to “find the time” to call one of my sisters. No one is that busy. We live in a world where a phone call to Tokyo sounds like the recipient is just next door. Where a connection through text takes no more than a blink of an eye. Technology gives us the power to stay connected if only we use it. It also gives us the power to think we’re connected, thus keeping it from truly happening. I know some people who “connect” via Facebook or Instagram or Snapchat—but if it’s a pic or message posted for the world to see, it doesn’t count.
As this post is publishing, I’m flying back home—plenty of time during a layover in Baltimore to text my sweet sisters. Who do you need to connect with? Don’t let the time slip away. Just do it!
