We had just unpacked our suitcases from a weeklong trip to Oklahoma. Lori and I now divide our stay there; she spends most of her time with her mom in Edmond, and I drive to Altus to be with my brother. Lori’s mom has dementia, and my brother has ALS. Neither of those maladies gets better, so we try to do our best to help the caregivers. It’s emotionally and physically draining.
By the time we got home, we were exhausted. Plopping down in my chair, I stared at our suitcases. I had missed my mornings in that chair where I read my Bible and devotions and meditate in silence, my mug of coffee in hand.
Looking back at the suitcases, I wondered, “What were we thinking? We’ve been packing and unpacking for the past three weeks.” We had scheduled a “delayed” Christmas celebration with our son, David, and his family. Their kids’ sickness had prevented them from visiting before our trip to Oklahoma.
“Note to self,” I said aloud (making sure Lori could hear my veiled complaint), “No trips to Oklahoma during bad weather in January, and allow time in between for rest.”
Then, in a flurry of activity, we unpacked, and Lori prepared meals in the kitchen. Soon, the house echoed with laughter as David’s family and Madi (our daughter) and John’s family arrived. David and Kayla’s twins (15 months) and 3-year-old daughter Stella were playing with Madi and John’s three kiddos, Eli (12), Emmie (7), and Noah Kate (2). After our Christmas feast, I sat back and smiled, shaking my head as the kids scrambled through the house like frenetic little squirrels in the trees, the frigid weather keeping their youthful energy confined indoors.
I thought of the times at Christmas when, as a child, our extended family would gather at Fletcher, Oklahoma. We would first meet at Grandmother and Grandad Whitlock’s, open presents, and then meet our aunts, uncles, and cousins at Uncle Harold’s and Aunt Byrcha’s just down the road, where we feasted on homemade noodles, rolls, turkey, and dressing, an assortment of vegetables and deserts, more than we could eat, including Grandmother’s famous chocolate cake. Invariably, my older brother Mark would organize a touch football game for all the kids. How we played after the Christmas meal, I’ll never know. But we did. And we had the time of our lives.
Earlier in the week, when I was in Oklahoma with my brother, Tangie (Mark and Joy’s adult daughter) mentioned how she wished her daughter, Logan, could meet her cousins in Kentucky. Getting families together seems more and more challenging, what with our schedules and travel distances. But Tangie is correct; it is important to know our extended family, for we are part of something bigger than our immediate clan, and getting to know cousins, aunts, and uncles can broaden our familial horizons, opening us to our broader identities as part of a family and culture that encompasses more than our immediate home. As part of God’s multidimensional family, we recognize God’s love for variety. As a bonus, we might even learn the uncle is as quirky as Mom and Dad claimed he was, or we might see the love and patience the aunt still carries for her wayward son or daughter, who is still wandering in the far country.
Soon, all the kids at our house had settled down. Madi, John, Eli, and Noah Kate had gone to their home, leaving Emmie, who had asked to spend the night, much to Stella’s delight. And then, a rare moment: all was quiet and mostly dark, except for the low sound of the TV in the background and the light of cell phones.
Then Stella inched away from Emmie on the couch and crawled up in David’s lap, cuddling close to him, whispering, “Daddy.”
“What is it, Stella?”
“Daddy,” she said after a thoughtful pause, “I just love Emmie.”
And I thought: “Note to self: (This time for me) It’s worth it to travel back tired and weary and get ready for a family gathering, for family isn’t an afterthought for the people we enjoy if they fit our schedule.
Family (however “extended” your definition may be) is everything.
Amen!