The fog is beginning to lift to where I can just make out the other shore and a bird taking an early morning cruise over the sound searching, I am sure, for a delicious fish breakfast. In the room next to me, I can hear my aunt and uncle waking up and getting ready for the day. And what a big day it will be! My Aunt Sharri, I am sure, is thinking I'm doing her some big favor by being here to help as her kitchen minion but the truth is, I am looking forward to a day spent in the kitchen together cooking up a storm. It sounds like a slice of heaven to me. one of those moments that seem so mundane but are really precious and holy. We spent over two hours in Costco yesterday with her pushing a cart and me, cruising around with a flatbed, which, I eventually got the hang of.
My Aunt is one of the bravest people I know for not only did she trust me with that flatbed at Costco, but tomorrow this house will be turned from a quiet island home overlooking the Puget Sound into a raucous, noisy, full to the rafters house with seventy of our family members, most of whom I have never met, and many she hasn't either. We've talked over this idea for years and this year, she put it together, a family reunion with all her dad's (my grandpa's) siblings. And since there were twelve children, there are a lot of descendants.
Can I just tell you how excited I am to meet them all? When I was growing up, most of the local extended family around me was step-family and while I appreciated the gatherings, the fact is, we were always treated differently. I don't blame them for that and I'm not mad about it, it is just the way it was and I understand how that happens. But I've wanted to have family I truly belong to. So it has been one of my deepest joys to be an adult with the freedom to travel to see my dad's family in Washington on a pretty regular basis. I have loved spending time with my cousins, talking with my grandparents, and hanging out with my aunts and uncle. I really belong, I'm one of the gang. I eat my pancakes with peanut butter and get poison oak at the drop of a hat. I'm family.
It still feels weird when I think of meeting all these people and knowing I'm related to them all. My great-grandparents, from whom we are all descended, were in the ministry. "Brother Hoggatt" was an evangelistic preacher and I've read when you drove with Brother Hoggatt, you prayed. Haha. Being in the ministry myself through writing and speaking, I like to think I get a bit of that from him. Whether or not that's true, I hope he would be proud to know this about his great-granddaughter. My aunt, who did know him, thinks he is.
The one picture I've seen of this family, is when the youngest is still a little girl. (She'll be here tomorrow.) I'm hoping for stories. I'm hoping for fun. I'm hoping for time to sit down and get to know each other a little, to have them as more than just faces I barely recognize. I'm hoping to land a piece of that peanut butter pie I'll be making this afternoon and another of the Boston Creme Pie my Uncle is picking up tomorrow. I'm hoping to hear God moving, bringing people together, giving my Grandpa and his siblings a gift of being together again.
Thank you Jesus for my family. (And for peanut butter pie! I'll save you a slice.)Labels: Family