Ma Tante J

I had to say good bye knowing it was our last. There isn't anything left to do.

I avoided the topic but you brought it up, finding comfort in your plans, your arrangements.

I couldn't say much through my tears. If I could have found my voice, I would have said that I am a very blessed woman to have had you as a sitter for so long. You helped shape me.

You with your confident spirit.
You with your trendy style.
You with your easy laugh.
You with your soft skin that made hugs squishy and comforting.

You had a way of having me try new foods, frustrating my mom and her many failed attempts.

I loved when you made crepes and when you would put peanut butter on a piece of bread, made a heart in it with your finger and sprinkled sugar on the inside. I've made it for myself since but it's never the same.

The minnows, rhubarb, Trigger, Hickory Smoked sticks, soap operas and sleep overs. Memories.

You made my first wedding dress all the while whispering your love and support over a decision I'm sure you weren't fond.

But that's you. Loving, supportive, encouraging, creative, courageous.

I never thought you'd have to go.
I hope you know that as long as I live, a part of you lives in me.

Je t'aime, ma tante.

Road Home

As I drive the many hours towards my childhood home, my roots, I find myself thinking of my life. The past, the present, the future. Highways have a way of doing that, I suppose. Fill minds with thoughts, pressuring the soul to grow, learn, move forward.

We tend to compare children to their parents. "So and so is just like her mom" or "Did you see that? That's the spitting image of her father".

I suppose that's how we begin to create identities for ourselves, our children.

I've been told that I look like my mom but favor my dad when it comes to everything else.

During this last trip I purposefully asked questions that dug a little deeper into my parents' past, specifically, their parents. I wanted to dig further about my roots. My heritage.

I was surprised by the answers. Not the answers specifically but what they stirred in me. Instead of trying to find an identity in the stories, I found an independence I didn't know I longed.

I found that I did indeed have parts of my mom and dad. Personality traits, quirks, etc... But on the flip side there are many things that are mine. Uniquely mine.

I think I feared it before. Who I was. Who I was once I left my country. My family. My roots.

And as I drive the many hours towards my adulthood home, I find myself grieving for the distance that separates me from my family, but joyful in my new found identity.

Vacation

Tomorrow I disconnect for a couple of weeks.

No more phone.
No more email.
No more tv (or very limited).

Freedom.

You, me and the Holy Spirit

The Holy Spirit.

Mine is different than yours. I mean it's the same Holy Spirit but He moves me differently than you.

For a long time I wondered why. Why did I think differently than other people. Christians and non-Christians alike. Some topics I tend to be more legalistic about, some more liberal, and others, completely disconnected. So why is that? Am I a bad person or even Christian because the thought of nursing my kids until they were two made me want to jump off a bridge? Or that I am pro-life but feel no real drive to fight congress or whoever else on this topic?

There are plenty of hot topics I'll discuss with you and I'll share my opinion but my drive to get up and make a difference in some areas, is just non-existent.

Having said all this, those who know me, know that I do have passion and heart for lots and lots of other things and that I serve God and others with all of my heart and soul. I am moved to make a difference in so many ways, that I must physically stop myself from overloading my schedule with worthwhile causes and projects.

So why aren't your priorities, mine? Why am I against letting my boys browse through the lingerie section of a catalog not ok with me, but it might not bother you?Why am I ok with going to a bar but you wouldn't dare?

Because the Holy Spirit that lives in me...it's different than yours. My life experiences, my soul, my core, it's not like yours. The Holy Spirit guides me, tries to shield me from things that may hurt me. That may open doors, I may have a hard time closing.

Understanding this has made my head less heavy.

We don't have to agree. We aren't better Christians/moms/wives/friends or whatever else because we do A, B, and C.

We are better because we let Him lead us. We listen to that small still voice. And we act.