Love, Loss, and Legacy

Family vacations taken during my childhood were always an adventure... of sorts. I have fond memories of jumping in the Atlantic waves that rolled into Myrtle Beach, braving the tallest water slides with my Dad, and souvenir shopping with my mom. Whether we were travelling someplace exotic (compared to central New York) or visiting family, a very long car ride was inevitable. My dad had an affinity for Flock of Seagulls, Peter Gabriel, and the Yardbirds, which only added annoyance - like icing on a cake - to the already complaining younger brothers who missed the cup quite often when attempting to pee in the car because my dad's eagerness to reach the final destination trumped stopping the vehicle. And forget about scouting around for cute boys - I was too busy trying to locate one brother who had mastered the disappearing act in the middle of the busiest places. Now as an adult, I look back on the memories made and cherish them. The laughs, the annoyances - all of it. The day we were strolling along the boardwalk and stumbled across a Jesus Jones concert while they were rocking out their popular radio hit that my dad and I actually both liked, and the night we all dressed up for our elegant dinner on our first cruise, and the time my mom's whole side of the family decided to rent a house near Virginia Beach - with her three sisters and brother and my three brothers and a cousin and grandparents - crazy fun. Moments we were all together, stepping out of regular life into a moment where time stood still and we could just... be.

My mom and I were talking earlier this year about how my youngest brother was going to be leaving for grad school in Japan at the end of the summer, and how the whole family (parents and four siblings with families) hadn't all been together in over a couple of years. We decided on the spot to rent a beach house in Gulf Shores and have one last hoorah before we sent my brother to the other side of the world. Plans were quickly made, everyone was on board. Just three weeks before our departure date I made a paper chain that my boys could rip apart daily as a countdown to our beach trip. With only a few paper chain links remaining, I received a phone call from my mom who informed me that her and my father would be driving to Connecticut (from their home in Nashville) to be with my grandma who only had a few days left to live. Because my parents had so graciously rented this house for us, along with the uncertainty of when my grandmother would actually pass, my brothers and I decided to proceed with our vacation plans, praying that my parents would be able to join us soon.

I wrote about my grandmother in another blog post (The Story Before Your Story). She had lived a long, full life and old age wasn't being kind to her anymore. My grandma Mary passed away the morning we all set out for the beach. The car ride that day was long... thinking about her and her life. Sad that I wasn't able to be there for my dad, missing my parents who I knew in my heart wouldn't be making it to the beach... all while maintaining excitement for the two little boys who sat like angels in the back of our Explorer, anxiously looking out the window for a glimpse of the ocean. When we arrived at our destination, my two little sweet peas morphed into cannon balls as they shot out of their car seats and flew towards the sand and water. I trailed behind them, the sand sticking to my legs, my lungs filling with air tinted with salt water, the sound of the crashing waves growing louder with every step I took. Warm embraces from my brothers and excitement about the beautiful house, getting settled and grilling dinner kept me from shedding more than the single tear that found its way out as my heart wished for this family gathering to be complete.

Our first full day at the beach house was perfect. The three little cousins had fun burying one another in the sand and chasing a crab they collectively named Crab Apple Peanut Butter. Eric found himself swimming next to a sting ray, and my sister-in-law and I enjoyed watching the dolphins frolic and flip right out in front of us. The smell of sunscreen, salty kisses and sand in every crack and crevice of our bodies was a constant reminder that we were exactly where we wanted to be. That night we gathered up the entire clan for some family pictures.

 

 

 

This family blesses me. Things may not have worked out exactly how I would have preferred, but the time that I had to bond with my brothers and their families this week was precious to me. Life is so busy. All the time. One thing that Eric and I have realized over the past few years is that we MUST take a family vacation every year, and him and I MUST take a long weekend getaway - just the two of us - every year. It's so important to have time to connect and focus on each other without distractions and the demands of every day life. Beautiful things happen when you have time to clear your head, sit back and relax, and say yes to every silly request your kids have. Stripping life down to just family time invites peace and joy to be abundantly present. And after a busy planting season, our little family of four desperately needed this time away from the craziness of daily life.

 

Eric and I took the boys to visit the USS Alabama in Mobile. The second we pulled into the parking lot of the military park the tears started flowing. I'm sure, in part, it had something to do with the fact that we had all watched Lone Survivor the previous night. Having so many relatives who are or had served in the military really invited me into claiming a part of a legacy I never really acquainted myself with before. As we explored the huge battleship (which Jack would have happily lived on for the rest of our vacation) I felt a tug to be connected to it somehow. The stories of men and women who served on it, the sleeping quarters displayed to give you a glimpse of what life was like for someone who lived aboard the ship, the guns and cannons reminding us that this was not a toy boat - all pointed to legacies that had been interwoven into the fabric of the ship.

 

 

 

In the back of my mind, I knew I was being sentimental, as it was also the day of my grandmother's funeral. Deep down I was evaluating my own life and the legacy I was leaving my own children. As I thought about my grandmother and the countless men and women who had served aboard the ship, so many other names and faces came to mind whom I had known or loved, and had lost. The lyrics of Nichole Nordeman's song Legacy began streaming through my head and I realized that it's important to remember our lost loved ones, but even more importantly, to celebrate them. This week long vacation of celebrating family and love, peace and joy, blessings and gratitude - was also about remembering where we came from... and Who we belong to.

 

That night as the sun was setting, we carried some colorful flowers out to the water's edge, and took a moment to celebrate my grandmother. In remembrance of the beauty and gift of her life, we cast the flowers into the waves and watched as the tide drew them into the deep ocean.

 

 

 

There is something so pure about a child playing. Watching my boys crash into the waves with laughter and excitement, instilled a strong sense of freedom within me. I tend to over complicate things. When I look at my life with a magnifying lens, its no wonder why I see so many imperfections. As I twirled Gabe in the water and searched for shells with Jack, God took a moment to gently remind me that the more important things in life don't require a magnifying lens to see. They are right there in front of me - waiting to be claimed by love and acceptance. And as I choose to embrace love, the legacy I leave becomes like footprints in the sand... a journey with a history and a future, intersected with others' lives, continually washed over with abounding grace, all while God tenderly draws me into His deep oceans of love.

 

My brothers and I decided to surprise my parents in Nashville, who had returned from Connecticut, on our way home from the beach. We all enjoyed a big, loud meal together before we went our separate ways. Twelve bodies packed together around the dining room table, celebrating one brother's birthday, Father's Day and another brother's admittance to grad school. The clinking of our glasses was the highlight of the week - a celebration of love and togetherness, the essence of family.