A Bridge

Today is the last day in January and for the first time in my life, well, probably not the very first, I walked outside in a t-shirt and enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the cooling of the breeze.  Neighbors were pruning bushes, walking dogs, and rising bikes.  My "neighbor" about 15 houses up the street was in his garage with he doors open, watching television, so all was right. I count it odd when I don't see him and/or the television playing.  Enjoying such a day lifted my spirit. 

Reminiscing has been the mindset of the last few days.  Messners the country over have been celebrating and remembering with each other, the life of one man.  He called me "Angelina" and I allowed it.  To me, he represents affability, calm and thoughtful candor, humor laced wisdom, intelligence with humility, and a deep agape love.  Two summers ago this man, in his mid eighties texted me and asked me to come see him at a family reunion that was being planned. Without hesitation I made the 16 hour round-trip over the course of one day off work to attend.  I saw him this past August and as we said "goodbye," this is the last thing he said to me, "You always come.  No matter where you go, you always come back. I really like that."   You are dearly beloved, Uncle Neal, and I would always come if within my power to do so.  As another dear family member said to me, "it's about affection, not obligation."  What a gift to love and be loved. It paints a life with color, with purpose, with joy. 

Nothing says "life celebration" like the pulling out of old photos.  I went through some old photos and walked down some old trails this weekend.  My life has had some odd twists.  While I explore this, please note if you hold a place in my family, this path is from my personal perspective and is not meant to color your perception or dishonor those whom it involves....  

My parents grew up together. Their parents were good friends and spent a lot of time with each other as I understand it.  It is from this co-heritage that I come.  This means that there is a lot of history over a lot of years.  I kind of love it. The nineties were difficult because of it, but I appreciate it nonetheless.  I think when my parents divorced, it was difficult for my grandparents. Relationally, things are always challenging and then this happens and I am certain it is easy to gravitate and shelter your own child.  You take sides. You feel almost honor bound and vengeful to do so. I get it. I'm a parent and blood is thicker than water as they say, right?

I think before my grandmother died, my other grandma visited her and maybe some things were worked out. I can't and won't speak more to what I don't know.  This is the point that I find with joy on this trail.  This co-heritage is a heritage of faith.  This means that we all have the same past, and we are all going to the same heaven.  Both sides of my family know all about the other sides. When someone dies, I know I'll see both sides there. For all of my life there will be continued crossover and, no pun intended, for better or worse, I can think of nothing better.  I do not diminish the difficulty, because it's not perfect, nor will it ever be. It's awkward, sometimes, still to this day.  Where should I go? Where should I sit? Do I look like I am being preferential? I am the queen of small talk, do I need to employ that to fill the conversation gap?  But, part of this agape love that we need to have means we belong to Christ, we need to act like Christ.  I've seen some clear demonstrations in my family and it makes me so proud and happy for this heritage, joint heirs with Jesus and joined as family on this earth. 

Nothing says eighties birthday like boxed cake and sliced neopolitan ice cream.  Nothing says family like picnics with pop - Dad's Root Beer to be exact-  (you guys know I say "soda" now, right?) and fried chicken. While I went through photos, I smiled and cringed.  I remembered what it felt like as a child to be part of this family.  I remembered what it felt like to be torn in the middle of this family.  I remembered what it felt like to know I would always be a part of two worlds and welcomed nonetheless.  Part of that emotional unification came from the man we celebrate and honor this week.  He became a bridge that crossed a divide. 

Uncle Neal, it is clear that you are dear to many. More eloquent words than I can speak will be spoken of you in the coming days.  It is still true that if you asked for me today I would be on a plane tomorrow.  It is true that I would have welcomed you to Texas though you did not wish to come. It is true that I would have met you in the alternative location of San Diego.  It is true that I have adored you my whole life.  It is true that your presence will be deeply missed.  

It is true that we will meet again.

Until then.....