Family

Cousins Sally & Bob and their kids Jack and Andrew

I had the opportunity to reconnect with family while out west. I have cousins and an uncle in Oregon and Washington whom I haven't seen in years. Our entire trip has been a mix of farms and staying with friends/family inbetween, but this time I was truly (re)developing relationships with people I don't really know.

Columbia River

Part of Sabbath is time spent with family, and my time at home in MI, with my sister, and with close friends surely counts as family time. I wasn't sure how or if I would get to see my cousins. Both graciously offered to host us in their home cities of Portland and Seattle, and both spent time getting to know me and D. As we made the turn back east, I realized driving away that this was some of the best "family" Sabbath time yet - the kind that is perhaps intended most.

My cousin Mike and I in the canyon hike

We took a trip up the gorge and to Mt. Hood with Mike and "played", a good Sabbath practice. And we shared stories with both sets. Some were warm memories of loved ones no longer with us, and others stories of pain and shame.

Falls on our hike hear the gorge

Sitting in the spot where cousin Mike proposed to his wife Lucy (family history at its best!)

Even though I barely know these cousins, I was connected to them in so many ways, and connected to a larger story. Though in the company of practical strangers, I was somehow able to tap into love and truth that can be so heavily guarded and scary with other people who would have been just as unknown, but not family.  It was amazing to me that even though they have always felt distant (due to age differences, geography, and sometimes family tension), I realized that there is not really that much distance between family no matter how far they are. The shared stories and histories forever bind you together. Though they can be hard stories at times, it's comforting to know others not only know about them, but have experienced them too.

Estranged by Distance

Estranged by distance, he relearns 

The way to quiet not his own, 

The light at rest on tree and stone,

The high leaves falling their turns,

Spiraling through the air made gold

By their slow fall. Bright on the ground, 

They wait their darkening, commend

To coming light the light they hold.

His own long comedown from the air

Complete, safe home again, absence

Withdrawing from him tense by tense

In presence of the resting year.

Blessing and blessed in this result

Of times not blessed, now he has risen.

He walks in quiet beyond division

In surcease of his own tumult. 

Wendell Berry, A Timbered Choir

The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997: 1984, 5.