Reflections on a Life Well Lived
I’ll preface this post by explaining – not in the way of excuse, just in the way of explanation – that I didn’t grow up with close ties with my extended family. That whole thing about “going to Nana’s house for Thanksgiving” or “going over to Cousin Ira’s to play” or “seeing Aunt Frieda for brunch this weekend” – yeah that wasn’t part of my childhood experience. One set of grandparents and aunts/uncles were tucked away firmly in the West Coast, and the other set was halfway around the world on a little tropical island that I visited all of four times in my life [to date, the last visit being in 2000].
So I almost didn’t make this trip. In fact, it reddens my face when I admit that it took a little bit of convincing and a semi-guilt trip to make me come. I was debating between coming out here to visit my relatives for spring break and going to New Orleans to do a service project. And for a while it was fake-debating, because I really wanted to go to New Orleans to help out, and my mind was pretty much made up. But in the end I switched up my plans when my dad said, “Well, if you want to come, then come. It depends on what’s important to you. If you don’t want to come, then don’t come.” He didn’t say it in a mean way, but I knew what he meant. And in the end, in part out of a sense of duty to family, I booked a ticket for the West Coast instead of the French Quarter.
And I was really nervous about coming. But I’m really glad I did. Not because service isn’t important, and not because spring break should always be all about family coziness and cocooning in the love of one’s relatives – but because before this trip, it had been YEARS since I truly connected with this side of the family. And during this trip (so far), I have realized anew how vital and precious these ties are… and I’ve been reminded that they take work and effort to strengthen and maintain. God gifts us with family, but we have to nurture the relationships to make them thrive rather than merely exist.
* * *
One of the things that struck me this weekend was seeing the effects of a life well lived. So many family friends passed through for my grandpa’s big birthday, and I know they were there for him – but I know that in large part, they were there for my grandma too. My grandma passed away over ten years ago, but her legacy lives on richly.
We went to visit my grandma’s grave this trip. It was my first time visiting her there, since I went to the funeral but missed out on the burial thirteen years ago. This time, I watched in awe as so many close family friends, who had traveled hours by car or by plane just to attend my grandpa’s party for one evening, came to pay their respects to my grandma. They placed flowers there, spoke of her, and spoke to her – “Happy Easter, Mama,” they said. “We pray you’re well and God bless you. We’re doing fine, and we miss you.”
I realized as I watched them how much better they knew my grandma than I did. She passed away when I was young, and because we hadn’t lived near each other, I never knew her that well. I could only enhance my paltry memories by learning about her vicariously through these, her dearest friends and family.
My grandparents were happy to bear three sons, but also wanted to have a girl. That wish, however, never materialized [I’m the first and only girl on my dad’s side of the family…my cousins and my big brother are all boys], so my grandma took in several girls as goddaughters early on in their lives. She treated them as her own, and loved them dearly and with great devotion. There were other people along the way, too, whom my grandma informally adopted as her children. Basically if anyone was in need, she would help them out and give from what little she and my grandpa had. And she didn’t just give – she really loved, and that difference has made all the difference.
The effects of such love live on. My grandma’s generous and loving spirit bred a generation of generous and loving spirits that continue to pass on that love – to my grandpa, to my uncles and my dad, to me. I’ve seen that during these last few days. And, undoubtedly, to others. Because once you’re warmed by the fire of real love, you can’t help but share it with others because it grows and never divides, and never diminishes no matter how widely it is spread.
I know my grandma believed in Jesus, and strove to live her life in the way that honored Christ. Great as my grandma was, I know that it’s because of Jesus that she was able to love so deeply and richly. This weekend I saw how that kind of love could change lives – and I’ve been challenged by it. I pray that God would use me to love others with that kind of intensity and really make a difference.