Saturday, February 23, 2008

Dear God,

Noticing you walk by in a group, albeit family, friends, or even an office gathering is an amazing wonder. What is more wonderful is when more than one observes it.

The invitation to a weekend family event in July is evidence that more than one person was struck by your presence at a recent family wedding. And not just one, but others. When someone said, "Some things are too broken for us to repair." He/she was right. But when God enters the scene in a visible way, we know the Great Physician is there with all the necessary tools to bring about healing.

Years ago my uncle thanked me for conducting my grandmother's funeral. Because he always thought I was very much like Grandma, he made a comment about me taking her place.

Grandma was the reason our family came together. Grandma was the reason we loved so much. Grandma was the reason we felt connected, linked. Grandma was the reason faith lived in our family. Grandma was the reason we felt at "home." Grandma was the reason we felt so much joy. Grandma was the reason we each felt so special. Grandma was the reason.

That's a lot of responsibility. But it doesn't work that way. I never was my grandmother. I could not attain many of her qualities. However, I did find my way to faith through her and my faith has grown by leaps and bounds throughout the years. When I discovered on my own that faith truly is at the center of any meaningful existence and that God is indeed a real living being, I threw in my towel of doubt and picked up faith for the eternal journey.

But that did not make me into an image of my grandmother. I did try to be her for a long time. I tried to bring people together, to love people as they were, to give a sense of interconnection. But it didn't work because I was not her.

I finally gave up, moved over, let go, surrendered any notion that I had the power to be someone I was not. I could not make a family suddenly come together again. I could not make people like each other. I could not change the family dynamic to "the way it used to be." I had to step into your arms, whisper my confession, release my desires for a family into your hands and trust you. Not trust you to do something a particular way, or to do it at all, I just had to trust, period.

And now years later, I am discovering intricate methods by which you draw people together, pour salve on their wounds and grace in their hearts and give people new chances at life. The more I trust, the more I open myself to you, the more I grow in faith, the more I seek you, the more I am willing to surrender, to let go, no strings left, the more I see your face, hear your voice, notice you as you appear here, there and everywhere. And then, of course, obediently follow your direction. It's easier, less fuss and work.

We're truly coming home to one another, my family and I, we're coming home.

Grandma loved
a poem
about calling children
home for dinner.
We finally realized
we were hungry.
And now
we're headed
back home,
back home,
to you.

Love, Andrea