A Real Family

Not all families sit down together to eat their meals.
For a lot of people this may seem obvious. For my children, until a couple of years ago, it was not.

We have always strived to eat at least one meal together every day.  Most days we manage at least two.  On the best days we eat all three meals of the day together, at the table, as a family. It is a lovely tradition that I deeply cherish for many reasons.

The first and most glaring reason is that, as a child, my family never ate together. Blame it on the fact that we were a military family and my father was always gone.  Blame it on the fact that many Hispanic families have their children eat at a separate table. Whatever the reason, it didn't happen, but when my children came along we decided that that would change.  And it did.

Another reason is that I enjoy spending time with my children.  Now that many of them are older they help me cook and it makes the whole experience that much more enjoyable. Sitting at the table with real dishes and cutlery, along with a warm, home cooked meal is an experience in itself. There are few things in this world that I find more comforting; but knowing that it all came about with the help of my children is priceless.  These are memories that I will carry with me for many years to come.

The day I think my children realized how special this tradition truly is happened several years ago.  A little girl from our neighborhood had  come over to play and eat dinner with us.  Let's just say that I knew her home life was less than ideal, but nevertheless she was a kindhearted, beautiful, polite child. As dinner time approached I had the children set the table as usual.  Eventually dinner was placed on the center of the table, and everyone was washed up, seated and ready to eat.  Daniel led the family in prayer and then, of course, we began to enjoy our meal.

I am not sure what I cooked that day, or if it was especially delicious or even if the meat was dry.  I don't remember what we were wearing, or whether it was spring or summer; but there is one specific thing that I do remember.  It is something that I will never forget.  It is something I hope my children never forget.

There we were, enjoying our dinner meal as usual, and enjoying each others company when this little girl takes a breath, sits back and says, "So this is what a real family is like!"

A real family.

I believe that all children want a real family.  It doesn't mean that a family without a father or a mother is any less of a family.  Nor does it mean that there should be more than one child to make it any more "real".  A real family can even consist of grandparents or guardians.  I don't think it was the people she was so impressed with that day.  I believe it was the genuine fellowship that she saw.

We slowed down that day, as we do everyday, to stop and look at eachother and really talk.  By that time it was a habit.  It was something we did, and still do, everyday.  We didn't think much of it. Honestly, most days, we probably still don't; but the fact is that we do it.  The fact is, that on that day, we did it.

And this child saw it.

And I realized just how truly blessed I am.

As I looked around at my children that day, I said a little prayer inside.  I asked God to never let them take the small things for granted.  I asked that they would never take our family meals for granted.  I prayed that they would one day carry on this simple tradition of sitting down together with their family.  I prayed that they would always take the time to be a real family.

May you take the time today to sit down to a meal together as a family.  You might just have paper plates and sandwiches.  There might just be two of you who comprise your little family. All of those details really don't matter.

What matters is being together.

It's talking to each other.

It's being a real family.

Rain, Rain...

It's raining today.  This means that parts of the driveway will become mush rendering it almost impassable.  Most outdoor duties have been halted.  There will be no laundry hung to dry in the winter sun, and no firewood will be cut or chopped.

Many people get depressed on rainy days.  Some simply complain about it.  Others hate it, but I have learned that life is too short, too precious, too beautiful to ignore the simple beauty of rain.

It is an often ignored gift, and many times an overlooked blessing.

Still, I love the rain.  

I love...

     the sound of rain as it hits the roof. 

     how it looks washing down the hill in rivulets, and how it raises the level of the creek.   

     the smell it leaves behind. 

     how greens seem greener and reds seem redder.
     how everything seems more vibrant after a rain.  

     the feel of it on my face.

     puddles. 

     watching children play in it splashing and stomping in puddles with unadulterated joy.

     the sense of new beginnings after a rain.

     the appearance of a rainbow in the clouds after a good, long rain.

     how it washes away the dust and grime.

I didn't always feel this way. For a long time I wasn't a fan of rain.  It made everything wet. It ruined my shoes.  It mixed with this red Georgia clay turning it into a goopy mess that clung to everything and muddied my floors.  It made the days look dreary.  Everything seemed seemed gray, or worse: Georgia clay red.

  

But then one day I went dancing.
Well, more like running and laughing, but to me it was like dancing. I danced in the rain.

I don't know what happened exactly.  I was looking out at all the mess the rain was making, and something came over me.  I grabbed my daughters hand and I ran.  I ran right out the front door onto the porch and down the porch steps into the pouring rain.  An I felt free.  I felt joy.  It was amazing. The best part is that my beautiful girl didn't blink.  She ran with me and she laughed.  And then I laughed. We held hands and spun around and around our skirts twirling in the rain, our faces to the sky. We ran half way up the hill trying to dodge the slickest muddy spots, and then I stopped.  I stopped and I breathed in the freshest air I had in a very long time.  I looked around and I finally saw it.  I saw the gift that this rain truly was.  The gift that rain truly is.

I guess the reality is that I do know what happened that day.  God answered my prayer, and I received His gift of joy once again with open arms.  I had been going through such a dry spell.  My life was unusually stressful at that time and I had let it get the best of me.
So here I was dancing in the rain while His joy washed over me, and I wouldn't change a thing about it.  When I walked back into the house, the backs of my legs splattered with mud, my hair dripping and my clothes soaked, I walked in a different person. I was refreshed and full of joy.

I know. I know this all might make me sound crazy. I get it, but the next time it rains stop and watch it for a moment. Maybe, just maybe, you will go out in the rain facing the sky with outstretched arms like a child, and take it in as the gift that it truly is.

There are so many truly evil things in this world. Don't take it out on the rain.  Ignore the urge to complain about it. Thank God for eyes to see it, ears to hear it and skin to feel its cooling drops. 

It's learning to be grateful for even the most mundane things, like rain, that makes room for real joy in your life.

Take time to be grateful for it. 

Better yet go dancing in it.  You'll thank me later.