Good morning…
Our four kids have left their grandmother’s house, a modest log home beside a small lake in Pennsylvania.
“It’s really more like a pond,” one of our daughters said this year, as we can see from one end of the lake to the other.
Thirty-three of us gathered from all over the country – Washington state, Oregon, Nebraska, Kentucky, Michigan, Georgia, Pennsylvania – to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Steve’s family owning this rustic property. Laid back vacations have been held here, summer after summer, generation after generation. Floating on inner tubes loosely hooked together. Swimming at our leisure. Paddle boating and talking. Fishing a bit. Sleeping in. Napping often. Frisbee games. Card and board games. Sharing meals. Catching up. Laughing a lot. Crying some. Remembering when.
“I think this was the best visit ever,” one of our sons said before leaving.
At age twenty, he now joins me, his dad and siblings (ages twenty-two, twenty-four and twenty-six) in deep, meaningful conversations when the moment feels right. Extended time together does our souls such good as a clan of six. Extended family also joins in the bonding, as unique individuals heal from physical injuries, emotional scars, job changes, moves and the first divorce of a grandchild. Great grandchildren have arrived on the scene – noisy, messy, always on the move – making us wonder, “How did we ever parent four kids, each two years apart?”
As my husband drove our young adult kids to the airport to return to their work weeks, I stayed back and cleaned up after their final lunch. “I don’t like the way the lake feels without you guys,” I texted into our family group text. “I miss you already.”
Later my husband added, “True. Kind of lonely without you all. Just not the same kind of vibe. But. We’ll make the most of our extra time here and will see you next weekend.”
I went on a long walk down a country road, quietly reminiscing, integrating everything, before texting our family again.
“Okay,” I shared. “So we are getting our new groove. It has been drizzling all day, so you guys had the best weather. I put on a raincoat and walked in the rain while dad shopped on his way home from the airport. Then I swam while he did the elliptical. We enjoyed the hot tub, debriefing from our time as a family. We will happy hour with the others after dad helps grandma do something in the barn.”
“So we are beginning to hit our stride without you here,” I concluded. “Hope you guys have a smooth reentry into normal life. Love on the dogs for me (and water the flowers daily please).”
I agree with the famous person who once said, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.” Expressing the sweet sorrow of our family vacation ending allows sad feelings to move through me, opening up space for the joy of whatever comes next at grandmother’s house by the pond-like lake.
What strikes me most is how natural and sincere your faith is. I am convinced that the same faith that dwelt in your grandmother, Lois, and your mother, Eunice, abides in you as well (2 Timothy 1:5, VOICE).
…Sue…
P.S. Dear Readers,
