The first readings the liturgical calendar offers us this week have some serious family dynamics going on. Perhaps dysfunction is a better word. Cain kills Abel. Noah sails off with his family in a giant boat filled with animals. The families of Shinar, all speaking the same languages, build a city with a giant tower that concerns God so much he changes the one language to many, scattering the people to the corners of the earth.
And we thought our families had issues.
Families are a funny thing. You grow up with brothers and sisters who know everything about you: what makes you happy, what buttons to push to get a rise out of you, how to make you smile, or angry or sad or whatever. Families know how to avoid conflict or pit one sibling against another. They not only know your story, they had a hand in writing it. Families have our past and serve as a compass for our future. No matter how far we wander, families point us home.
I don’t connect with my original family nearly enough these days. There are some siblings I email or text or write to often and others I haven’t spoken to in months. The excuse I use is that my present family – the one I live with – are now my focus. But the fact is I could do more. I just don’t.
This week we will celebrate Valentine’s Day. The children will give cards to their classmates and the stores will discount the candy for those who forgot to plan ahead. It’s meant to be a day you show your loved ones that they are, in fact, loved. It seems odd to have a day set aside for that. Shouldn’t we be telling people we love them everyday?
Still, it’s a special day. So, Mom, Terri, Cathy, Tim, John, Cindy, Kris, Kevin, Meghan, and Timmy – consider this your Valentine. Tell your spouses and children too. They are loved; you are loved, and I am grateful we are a family. Dysfunctional though we may be (and we are), we belong to one another.
We are, as they say, our stories. And you will always be part of mine.
