Last Sunday at church, a family presented the “sermon”. They are a family I know well. The grandfather is a retired professor in our town, the dad is a professor at my alma mater, the mom is our local school nurse as well as my superhero, and the kids are my favorite children in the world (next to my own).
Our pastor is on a mini-sabbatical and we are pinch-hitting to give him the needed break he deserves. This was their Sunday to be up front.
Last month, their entire family, the aunts, uncles and cousins, all went to Jamaica for gramma and grampa’s 50th wedding anniversary. But, this wasn’t a regular kind of celebration. This was really special.
You see, these people are members of the Church of the Brethren, which has roots in Anabaptism and is related to the Mennonites. You might think “horse and buggy”, but that is not the case. They are resourceful, yes, but they are more than that. They are very much into service in the community as well as the world, quite politically liberal, and peace-loving.
The grampa is a man I have known for many years. He and his wife are really neat people. So, instead of planning the regular “let’s get together and have a huge party about us” party, they planned a service trip to Jamaica.
The families lived with host families for a week. They ate food that the families ate. They walked to work every day, like the host families did. They slept on cots and sweat up a storm. (It’s July, for Pete’s sake) They built an entire home in 4 days. It was a simple home-four walls, some windows, and a roof-but it was a man’s home, nonetheless.
As they spoke about it, I thought about my parents and their 50th wedding anniversary party. Yes, we had a party at my sister’s house where all of the closest friends came. But the real celebration was later…two years later. (Bless Covid’s heart)
I didn’t participate in their celebration. I couldn’t bring myself to it. They flew the couples to Hawaii to play for a week. They hiked and saw gorgeous vistas. They ate amazing food. They brought home glorious stories. I was genuinely happy for them.
You see, this was way outside my comfort zone. I have never gone on a real vacation before. I have traveled for work. I have traveled as an au pair. I have traveled to reunions (which are pseudo-vacations). But, I have never flown on a plane or driven in a car (with a man at my side) to go on vacation. You know the restful, quiet kind of vacation?
I did a little backpacking once. And it was the last thing in the world I would call vacation. Never again. I didn’t sleep for three nights straight. I have been to a retreat center for recovery in the mountains (alone). I would do that again in two seconds. But, as a “couple”…has that every happened.
I didn’t have another “half” at that point in life. And that was okay. I wasn’t up for a long flight, the recovery from it, and knowingly leaving the chaos of my life to return to after a week of pretending I was okay. I felt no draw to go. So I didn’t.
My parents loved the trip. My siblings loved the trip. Good on them.
But when I heard this couple, with their children, and their grandchildren, about their trip, everything in me was screaming,
“I WANT THAT!!! I WANT THAT FOR MY FAMILY!!”
I texted my kids before I even left the church. I told them that I had located the Peace Corp job I want to take in Africa in three years, how my education actually sets me up for it, and how I am preparing to go by doing some of those kinds of projects now. But, I told them about this trip. (My kids know these kids, by the way.)
They are game, of course. They are my crazy kids. Someday, we will find a time in the next few years where they can all travel to Belize, Guatemala, or Jamaica and do something like this…with me. I want to be there when they see another way of life, when their eyes are opened to the beauty of the simplicity of it all. I want to see when their priorities shift and their hearts grow a little bigger.
I expect that’s the homeschool mom in me. I remember vividly those “aha” moments they each had as they were learning to read, diving into topic after topic they were curious about, or just watching the birds from the south-facing window. I loved that part of my life so much. I don’t want it to be over…ever.
And maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe I can continue to create memories for them that we all value. I have a feeling it won’t be over until I quit working toward that one, most important goal, that I set for my family so many years ago. And that is this:
I want them to love each other like there is no tomorrow, be loyal to each other, be honest with each other, and protect each other’s hearts, bodies, and minds. I want them to be each other’s most trusted friends.
As a homeschool mom, I knew this could happen. I had seen it. It wasn’t my lived experience growing up, but I wanted it anyway. There were years and years of fights and struggles. But what remains today is good. They are closer than ever.
I am seeing them live into this more and more as they get older. It is the greatest relief and blessing I could have imagined. So, I won’t quit. I’ll keep listening to where my heart guides me and hope that they will come along for the ride. It could be really fun.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Stefano Vigorelli on Unsplash
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