WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE PART?

What matters most to you? Or better yet, who matters most to you? Maybe the two questions go together. They did for me this past week. I just returned from our second family vacation together in a few weeks. I'm talking 16 of us, all together, in relatively small places. OK, the last wasn't really small. We were on a cruise ship, The Independence of the Seas,which is three times the size of the Titanic. Big!

The reasons for the vacations is that this may be the last time ALL of us are together. (You could skip this paragraph and still not miss the meaning of this article, but if you're interested....) Four of my grandchildren just graduated from college, which means 2 are making Aliyah, which means moving to and becoming citizens of Israel; another is moving to NYC for her new job (1000+ miles away); and another is moving, at least for a while, to Paris to attend a cooking school - she's an aspiring chef. Another already lives 5+ hours drive away with her soon to be second baby and hubby. One other is applying to grad school, and who knows where he'll wind up. That leaves us basically with one granddaughter and her hubby and adorable so-smart almost 4 year old still living in close proximity in our fair city, along with one nephew, and one still away at college who does come home on school holidays (at least for now). In case you weren't counting that was 10 grandkids, plus 2 soon to be 3, great grands --- and they are "grand" indeed, though "lovey" might be a better term. 

So in anticipation of an extended-family empty-nest experience, we've spent as much time together as we could recently, including the cruise this past week. We weren't always all 16 of us together but we always came together for meals in the ship's dining room. Or somehow we managed to find each other to share in the various goings-on of the ship's activities. When at the end, eating again on the 5 hour drive home, I asked what everyone's favorite part was, they unanimously said eating together, being together.  

It wasn't the opulence of the ship or the activities which were entertaining, or fun, or the off-ship trip to Mexico where we docked for a day, or....whatever. It was each other. Being together. I agree, my favorite part as well.  In contrast, this brings to mind how we got separated during the lonnnngg lines out of the boat when 4,500 people were disembarking and going through Customs at the same time. What a relief it was to find 'us' congregating outside somewhere, waiting for my daughter Ellen and I who seemed to be the tail end of that excursion back to land. 

Being Together takes on an even greater meaning for me, the only grandparent in the group, to see how much love there is through 4 generations and the sense of "us," of belonging to one another. I pray it remains despite the distance and years ahead of us. But one other reality impacted me.

While onboard I watched a movie in my stateroom, a Steven Spielberg documentary on the Holocaust, with some live film clips and the stories of some of the survivors. I now understand that some of the most terrifying initial experiences for them had to have been being forcibly separated away from their family members, from those they belonged  to. As we worked our way off the ship yesterday, my one sense of urgency was not to loose sight of Ellen who was just ahead of me in the crowd. Last year I fell and broke my hip. It still hurts and keeps me from walking quickly. When the crowd moved faster, I had to choose between increased pain or lagging behind enough to possibly loose her in the crowd. I know that sounds melodramatic, but I thought of the Jews trying not to loose one another as they were separated away from loved ones. The emotional pain, and the fear of being left alone in all that, had to be greater than any physical pain. There in that line a swell of compassion arose in me for how many such situations people may find themselves in, with far worse situations (refugees, for instance) and ends to their stories than mine, as I found my family all waiting for us and even with a wheelchair my daughter Jenny managed to find somewhere as she anticipated my pain due to standing for so long while also having to carry some luggage.

I hope what I'm trying to express comes across: Appreciate your loved ones. Take opportunities to help one another and meet some of their needs. Don't take them for granted. Don't allow petty issues to divide you. God has made us to belong to one another. Families are His idea of learning to love each one as He loves each of us - unconditionally. I read a startling statement recently that has wide implications that would allow such unconditional love. Yeshua's entire life (and death) message was FORSAKE BLAME!  I can see how that would preserve our love for and commitment to one another, can't you? Those two words are worthy of considerable pondering. 

As a final word, if your family isn't as intact, or maybe doesn't even exist, as ours does, there are likely others around you who also might long for family. It doesn't have to be biological family. Friends can often make the best families too. Ask God to help you find them. 

If someone comes to mind while reading this, please pass it on to them.  Blessings, everyone.

Lonnie

Lonnielane.com  

Ginger's Apartment (Moving Journal #3)

Ginger is my friend who lives in the condos near my daughter where I am considering moving. It is, as I mentioned in my previous two blogs about my upcoming move, close to my daughter Ellen's home where I would be within walking distance of her and her family which consists of El, her husband, four children, two dogs and a cat named Theodore to whom I am incredibly allergic. Theo and I do not have much of a relationship.

I'm staying in faith that God is leading me, while watching for signs of His leading (as in "faith signs" - see photo above). I went to look at Ginger's apartment just to get the feel of it. Nice layout, lots of room and a washer/dryer which the other I looked at didn't have. It so happens that the condo across the hall is vacant as the woman who owns it went to live with her children. An attempt is going to be made to contact her to see if she wants to rent it. Then Ginger and I would be next door neighbors.

It's funny how some places just feel right and others don't. Each apartment has walls and floors, window, etc. There is always a visual sense of light or lack of it. Some places feel more comfortable than others. But it's the people who give it the sense of presence, of ambiance, or lack of it. You can feel if they're happy or not in a person's home, don't you think? And it's the 'stuff' that people have that gives a place personality as if the home is an extension of one's personhood. some are stiff and cold, others are welcoming. Ginger's home is warm and gives evidence of her love for the Lord. Even if Ginger wasn't there, you could tell that about her by her "stuff."

The building in not new. I don't mind. I tell myself, if I were, say, living in Jerusalem, I would have no trouble thinking a forty year old building was just fine, new even compared to some which are as old as New Testament history that took place there. So long as the plumbing and the heat work. In Jerusalem houses often do not have heat, so this is a plus. (I have a scar on my leg from when I tripped over a space heater in Jerusalem once trying to keep warm.) I'm not in Jerusalem, of course, though it would be my first choice if all things were equal. However, it is in North Florida that I am in search of a new home. We'll see what comes of trying to contact the absent lady next door to Ginger.

You Can't Taste the Chicken Soup Online

How long has your family been celebrating Passover, I was asked by a new Christian friend who had just learned that my family observes Passover. To her the Exodus was only a Bible story. "Oh, about 3500 years," I responded.

If there's one thing Jewish people do, no matter how religious or non-religious we are, mostly everyone participates in a Seder. I'm pretty sure that's a work of the Holy Spirit. After all, that's a long time, 3500 years, to be telling the same story every year. God has to be in on that. We're just not all that faithful on our own.

The first year my Dad became a believer in Yeshua he conducted the Passover Seder almost entirely in Yiddish (which only some of us actually understood). He did so because Yiddish was his first language as he grew up in his Rabbi grandfather's shull (synagogue) and his heart was so tender toward Yeshua, he wanted to tie his Jewish background together with his Jewish Messiah. We were all so familiar with the story, having each heard it all our lives, that despite the language, we knew what was being said, and were touched by Dad's love for the Lord and his gratefulness to God for rescuing our people time and time again.

This year there were 14 of us at our Seder table in Jacksonville, 12 family members and two guests, one from Germany. But my son was in New York and unable to be with us. That is, not "in person." However, my daughter Jenny had a brainstorm. We "Skyped" him in and there he was on her laptop computer, big as life. Well, almost. She carried the laptop around so we could each greet him. The family kibbitzing went on between the kids and their uncle as usual, only online this time. Then we set him near the candles as my other daughter Ellen lit them and said the blessing. When it was time for the first cup of wine, he said the B'rachah (blessing) in Hebrew and English. We proceeded through the Seder with him at the head of the table -- literally because we could only see his head on the screen.

So not even distance kept us from celebrating our Passover Seder together this year. I wonder if we're the first to hold a family cyber-Seder. The only thing missing, for me was that I couldn't hug him and for him, that no matter how interactive we were able to be, he couldn't taste the chicken soup online.