We pulled up in front of the house and I said "this feels more like coming home than going to my own mother's". And it is coming home. And I need it sometimes.
I visited my Aunt Rena today. I've mentioned her before. And I've mentioned her husband before - the one who was my dad when my father wouldn't be. The only thing that could have made the visit more perfect today was if Ivan was there (well and my son but he's busy with buddies). But Ivan's gone and so is a small piece of my heart. I can't imagine how big a piece is missing from Aunt Rena's heart.
So I sat at Aunt Rena's kitchen table eating store bought chicken salad on wheat bread, using a paper towel as a plate and thought "this is the best sandwich I've had in a long time." Drinking diet coke from a can, I realized it was better than the two meals I had at a restaurant this weekend. I savored every bite. And every word and every laugh.
As we pulled away down the alley where I used to play "kick the can," I told my husband thanks for stopping; now my weekend was complete. And then I thought all the way home of how my relationship with Rena has changed.
I know she held me in her arms when I was an infant. I know she changed my diapers. I know she watched all my school performances. I know she bought me Christmas and birthday gifts all through my childhood. I know she took me to the beach in the summer and to football games in the fall. I know she taught my Sunday school class and, even when my mom didn't go, I walked the block to church alone just to sit in Sunday school and be with Aunt Rena. I know she flew to Arkansas to watch me graduate from College. I know I wanted her husband to walk me down the aisle, but didn't ask because they would never have taken that away from my father. I know she held my children when they were just days old. I know she prayed for me after my two miscarriages.
I know she took care of me when my parents couldn't or wouldn't. I know she came dangerously close to raising me because of my parents' actions. I know she helped my brothers and sisters and me take care of our mother when we couldn't and shouldn't have had to.
And now I feel almost like her equal; although, I will never be as good as her. I sit across from her and munch on chips and drink diet coke and confide in her and listen to her. I share her humor, I sense her loneliness and I feel her pain. And she senses my frustrations and feels my pain. She says I made her day stopping by. She says I have a wonderful family and calls me a dear niece. She says she loves me. Little does she know that one hour in her kitchen feeds my spirit. Little does she know that I leave her home feeling inspired to be more like her, which is ultimately to be more like Jesus. Little does she know that dropping by her house is like coming home even though it was never home.
1 comment:
That was beautiful - why don't you print this out & send it to her? You said "little does she know....", but maybe she should know just how much of an impact she has had on your life!
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