| Sunny Side Up Oct. 18, 2006 �2006, Kathleen Gibson Naming that special ingredient Our son has brought home many friends over the twenty-seven plus years the Preacher and I have loved him. Some had feathers, some fur. Some even sported scales. Most had skin and hair like you and me - though slightly more colorful. Some of those friends I loved. When their shadows thinned and finally drifted completely from the paths of our lives, I missed them. Others, I'd rather have tossed out the door - especially the snakes. But the friend he brought home last weekend I'm keeping. We fit, somehow, Nic and our family. We don't see our son much since he moved two provinces over a few years ago. When he does come home there's little opportunity for long quiet chats amidst the flurry of reconnection with other family and old friends. But that evening, after returning home from dinner at our daughter's house, we lazed in our living room. And while the fireplace glowed red, we visited. I love that last sentence, especially the final words: We visited. We visited! Our son, Nic, and the Preacher and I. Like families used to do in living rooms, before electronic devices usurped the sacred seat historically held by genuine conversation. We didn't stay up late - we'd already spent an unbroken afternoon doing more of the same at his sister's home: Laughing, teasing, playing with babies, telling stories, looking through photo albums. Exploring the terrain of each other's lives, the paths rendered invisible to each other by time and distance and unfamiliarity. All day. No rush out the door, no persistent phone calls, no tension, no escaping to something more exciting. And no television. (I really like that part, too.) Once upon a time, amidst the frenetic pace and dark cloud of mounting teenage angst - the kind that wears the fabric of a family so thin the entire community peers through it - I doubted the day would come that we would ever visit thus with our son, not to mention one of his good friends. But God and prayer (and time and letting go and a few good friends) make miracles. Our family is testament to that. Nic hugged me before the two friends pulled out of the driveway to make their return trip. Then said this, "You guys are such a special family." I didn't know how to respond. "No, we're not," I said, meeting the earnest hazel eyes searching mine. "We're just ordinary people." I spoke the truth. But Nic, in case you read this; in case we never get the privilege of sitting around a warm living room and just visiting again (I pray we do) I must tell you something. I'm sure you noticed the brass welcome sign on our front door. "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord" it reads. If you found something special here, that's it: the fragrance of Christ. Remember that, when growing a family of your own. And please come back, anytime. Respond Home |
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