“I can’t believe you’re here!” So was the exclamation when we moved to the Wichita area a few years ago, spoken by my sister, who has lived in this area for many of her years. It was, I think, an exclamation of happiness that three of the six of us siblings were now within a few miles of each other.
Still within a few miles of each other, we welcomed yet another family member to this area yesterday. And in some ways, I can’t believe he’s here. Yesterday, our younger son and his family (and our grandbabies) put their worldly possessions on a truck, and with the help of some family members, me included, drove it all to Wichita and unloaded it at a house that will shortly become a home.
Our family is close by any standard, and we enjoy the company of one-another. We have made a conscious effort, over the years, to get along, forgive, laugh, enjoy, cry, and revel in each others’ company. It started before our parents died, and the commitment only grew following their passing. No one in our family is a black sheep regardless of what they might have done in the past or are doing now, and no one in our family is an island, being alone. Even if someone would prefer to be that way, it would be very difficult to maintain that for any length of time because the love, I think, would be overpowering.
We are indeed getting older. We are not the young, vibrant, and energetic people we once were. Our reunions aren’t so much about going out and doing anymore as they are sitting, reminiscing, and catching and keeping up. We enjoy morning coffee much more than we used to, and think the grandkids have more energy than we ever had.
As we ate pizza just before we left town yesterday with our son and all of his stuff, a flood of memories came through my mind…so many memories that I couldn’t process them all. We’ve moved…a lot. And we’ve helped others move…a lot.
We have histories in several of the communities that we’ve moved to or from or helped someone move to or from. In our son’s case, my history with Emporia, Kansas where they lived began in the late 1950’s when my oldest brother moved there to go to school. It continued when next brother went there as well and continued when my niece on my wife’s side of the family moved to the area. Then our oldest went to school there, and our younger son moved there with his family shortly after that. You get the idea.
And it’s tough sometimes to let some of that go and live in the present. But do that we must, savoring the past and learning from it, growing all the time as we meld past experiences with present situations to create future decisions. It all comes together, and it all fits, somehow. The trick is to accept that at face value and just continue on life’s adventure as God continues to unfold to each of us our own personal and unique present tense.
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