One of the hardest parts of this new season of life— this growing up and moving on season— has been the sudden disruption of our pattern of togetherness.
Since Mary Hannah was born 22 years ago, we have been a family close not only emotionally and spiritually, but physically as well. Our homeschooling lifestyle, and my husband’s commitment to family above occupation even in the years when he wasn’t in full-time ministry meant that more often than not, we enjoyed a good chunk of our days together. Breakfast was always a full-family affair. Field trips were scheduled in such a way that not only were all the kids present, but more often than not, Dad was, too. Every family member sat in a line in the church pews on Sunday morning. A trip to the library meant nine or ten people piling out of the van. And our weekends rarely involved going our separate ways; we could almost always be found working on something as a team. Together.
We don’t have that luxury anymore; that season has passed. Our new reality finds me wistfully checking the Life360 app and watching the dots that represent my three oldest children as they move all over the state. Our weekly visit to the library involves me and the five youngest family members. Breakfast is often myself, Jack, and the same younger set, as the early morning hours are key times for Christopher to connect with ministry partners. We knew this time would come. And it’s not a bad thing. It’s a healthy thing, actually. A season God has ordained as we pass from being a young, growing family into being an older one spreading its wings, welcoming new members, and beginning to have the ripple-effect impact on the world.
I suspect we’re still together more often than your average family; homeschooling alone ensures that our waking hours aren’t spent in different locations, learning different things, interacting with different people, and returning home for a few hours of rushed fellowship while we try to mentally unwind and simultaneously prepare for the next day’s marathon. But the days of a full van everywhere we go are rare now— rare enough to be fully recognized and celebrated for the gift they have been all along.
So when we do get the chance to all be in one place now, expect a feeling of festivity. Expect an atmosphere of reveling. Because while we are fine on our own, while we each have amazing strengths and weaknesses, interests and predilections, when you put us together, we’re something unique and powerful. We’re a family.