I’m sitting in a Catholic retreat center…in the room I normally take when I come here once a month. The iconoclastic nature of Catholic places…took me a while to get used to, being Protestant born and raised. There is a red tree outside my room…I’m in the middle of a wooded lot…so the Fall colors in all their glory are able to be viewed right outside my window. I’m buried under some blankets I found in the closet. I’ve been here since this morning – almost four hours. I am serene and peaceful. I’ve journaled a bit about what is on my heart this week…this month…got a lot of it out “on paper” – took an hour nap – made some tea, and read a lot of Genesis. Crazy stories…I love reading Genesis. It reminds me of when Dad would read aloud to us every morning Scripture – we’d go from Genesis to Revelation every year and then start all over again. Stories of intrigue and God’s faithfulness…much went over my head when I was young but as I matured, I started to understand more…
I miss those mornings; Mom and Dad would call a family meeting…we’d all gathering in the living room and before Dad left for work, we’d sing a few hymns or worship songs and then we’d listen to Dad read aloud the Bible; sometimes Mom did it, sometimes as the eldest child, I had the privilege of reading aloud. We spent a half an hour together every morning. And then Dad would dash off to his business doctor’s practice and we kids would do breakfast dishes and then get back to our schoolwork or housework. I took for granted those mornings. Although Mom was the one to initially encourage those family “devotion” times…once Dad passed away, the tradition stopped. The grief was too much, we were just trying to function, etc.
When I think back upon my life and think back to the rich heritage Mom and Dad gave me, I am extremely grateful. They really invested in us in so many ways, but especially spiritually. Oh, to hear Dad read aloud Genesis again…to be so young, so innocent, to be a family unit again.
After Dad’s passing…we tried to keep a semblance of the unit we once were…but I was the first to go to college and thus my schedule started conflicting with the family’s schedule. In the last ten years…as sibling after sibling has come into adulthood and gotten jobs and gone to college, etc…and as younger siblings have transitioned from being homeschooled to being in public school, with all the differing schedules that demands, it is rare that we’re ever together in one room. I think it’s been a few years. Last Christmas, one sister was in Spain. Other holidays the other sister is working in a medical facility, covering shifts. I imagine as the marriages come and as people move out of state or out of country, being together as a family will become a faint memory of a life lived long ago. Even now…it’s been eight years…and sometimes I hardly remember what it was like to be unified. To be together. To experience that love and community.
I think I knew intellectually that time of life wouldn’t last – even if Dad had not passed away, we would grow up and things would change…but even though I knew it, I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to live in the moment of security and love forever.
