I’ve spent a lifetime figuring where human beings fit, what
our mission is—especially mine—and I think we all do some of the from time to
time. I am eternally grateful for the early indoctrination
of the Methodist Church, but also for the spiritual guidance I have received
from many other sources. I am In a much broader place now and my spiritual
journey slips into iplace right where it began: my family, my tribe, my
ancestry.
Ancestors
who lived 2000 years ago and through ancestors known to us, and we octo- and septuagenarian
leaders of the pack today. The rest is future and how exciting it is as we have
watched our next two+ generation make
their way in the world.
This seeking always brings me full circle back to some
segment of our family circle and I realize that I learned everything I needed
in Sunday School. . . “Jesus Loves Me,” “Let your Little Light Shine,” and “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. “
The
lucky baby born, eyes not yet open, and still a little blue around the gills
instinctively raises its arms in an open, waving motion seeking food and contact.
How lucky the ones born that find loving hands eager to fill those needs, the
parents’ hands representing a long line of family, tradition, and shared affection.
The instinctive reaction of placing one’s cheek against the soft, downy little
face “marking” that he/she belongs with us—forever; A child’s first anchor. The
arc of my individual growth inevitably twists and winds through the hands that
touched me as a baby and the soft cheek kiss of a parent that says “you belong
here” and continues down through the 24 people in my list of descendants who, someday,
will kiss the cheek of a newborn and some wisp of my influence goes with that
gentle kiss.
When
it is our turn in the vast order of things to take responsibility for not only
ourselves but our sons and daughters, we live those years, using as many
resources as we have, creating new tools where they are lacking and, by
example, admonition, guidance, sweet love, and/or tough love, we give our
children that second pat on the butt (now standing upright, maybe taller than
you, with ideas of their own we may not like) to build on what we have provided
for them. Once our children are launched, our relationship changes, but never
ends. The responsibility for their
children pass to them; the intensity of that first kiss given to each child
born to us-now called “grandparents-” continues through the first gentle kiss placed
on the baby’s face by his/her parents, but the responsibility into is no longer ours to bear. Perhaps that is why
we call grand- and great grands the dessert of life—the spark of love and
caring remain strong in us free to share all that at a totally different level,
responsibility is no longer our main function.
This
year, perhaps due to facing the end of my life, but very much, I think, because
I’ve been fascinated by our family history and had to get that sorted out as to
what really was going on for us (I forget, occasionally that there are and have
been a ga-jillion million families that have walked this road) before I could
take pride and joy for what I have done since I became a “responsible party.”
And celebrating that which will continue as long as there is life on this
planet.
When
you get to “The very best we could at one given time” as your answer, that’s
it.
These
last two years have also been times when I wonder if I have fulfilled my extended
family responsibilities as I have begun to have a different understanding of
the relationship between my male-oriented family, a mother who never seemed to
be on my side, and me. My answer is a resounding “To the best of my ability at
any given time.”
With great plans, ideas, and hopes for
our children, we all helped create and pass on the love that will be passed on
to each child in our tribe—a “wisp” of the touch that we helped nurture in our day
and to our tribe, perhaps, a closer role with John’s descendants, but every
family reunion reminds me that, distant or close . . . WE ARE FAMILY!!
My brother, Jim’s observations, I’m sure,
is true—that our generation is important to the two generations that precede us
and two that follow. Not remembered two generations hence? OK. We held the
banners high while we were here.
GLORY
HALLELUJAH FOR OUR GENERATION VANVORSTS, GIFTED WITH THE SPOUSES WITH WHOM WE
HAVE BUILT THIS FAMILY.