Poinsettias

I thought I’d left grief at home and only packed distraction. 

For most of my trip, I was distracted. The 10 hour flight took me to a part of the world I hadn’t seen before. The crisp cold air required my favorite clothes and accessories including a big warm coat, a scarf, a hat, and gloves. Exploring the city required lots of walking, navigating The Tube, taking cabs, and riding a double decker bus. Figuring out what to eat and how much required constantly calculating the risk vs reward because new variables were added throughout each day. How will eating a bite of caramel cheesecake affect my ability to focus and participate in the rest of the days activities? How will having afternoon tea with all its delicious treats allow me to walk several miles and then enjoy a musical?  It was all a distracting game. 

Knowing what to expect and what was happening next required communication with the friends I was traveling with. Communication requires seeking to understand and be understood throughout each and every day. It requires working together to make decisions and compromises that bring joy to the individual and the group. Communicating can be frustrating but also so much fun! We spent at least half of the trip laughing with and at each other. It was a marvelous and healthy distraction.  

Capturing each moment required deciding between taking a picture with my phone or with my eyes. Some things are best captured in a well framed photo and others are better remembered by just gazing at it in its surroundings as it soaks into my heart. 

I thought I’d only packed distraction and then we walked by a shop and I saw it. We were walking fairly quickly so at first it was a blur but then it registered. A simple window display of poinsettias brought a flood of memories and emotion. My mom got one for her every year at the beginning of December. I always wanted to go along to deliver it because her reaction was an incredible mixture of joy, anticipation, and gratitude. Every year she seemed genuinely surprised. She didn’t have an expectation that my mom would bring it but was exceptionally delighted when she did.

To be content with what we have and grateful for anything we’re given. To know that God has good things for us on earth but that He also made it clear there would be suffering. To have the faith that is defined in the Bible as “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Hebrews 11: 1) She’s in heaven seeing all the promises fulfilled. Even as I walk past a window display in another country, I’m still learning lessons from her and I hope I always will. Grief may have followed me to London but God went before me and graciously provided the distractions along with the reminders. 

70 things for her 70th birthday

My mom turned 70 today. It sounds like an April Fools joke to me. It's hard to believe she's reached that number but I'm so grateful she has! To commemorate the day, I decided to compile a list of 70 things that I love about her. Spoiler: I only got to 47. Ha! (47 happens to be her favorite number so there's that.) My shortcoming leaves space for you to join me in completing the list. I'll tell you how at the end. Without further explanation, here's what I have so far.

1. Carried me 5 extra weeks when she was pregnant 
2. Sewed my "dress up" dresses
3. Bought me those red high heel shoes
4. Encouraged me to love all of my grandparents 
5. Introduced me to the Schwagers 
6. Signed me up for piano lessons
7. Let me quit piano (6 years later) 
8. Took me to dad’s volleyball games 
9. Taught me to cheer for everyone 
10. Made all of my lunches for 9 years of school 
11. Gave me weekly lunch allowance so I could practice budgeting 
12. Talked about money in everyday situations to teach me how to use it and not be controlled by it
13. Endured my piano recitals 
14. Sat through all of my choir concerts 
15. Showed up to every game
16. Cheered for me everyday 
17. Taught me to cook over the phone when I was desperate at work
18. Let me fly away to college
19. Came to see me at college
20. Took us to the flamingo exhibit 
21. Sang at least one silly song a day
22. Did my laundry for 22 years 
23. Cleaned up after me for 22 years 
24. Made sure I had three meals a day for 22 years 
25. Co-signed for my first car loan
26. Encouraged me to buy a house
27. Fed my dog sausage when I was gone
28. Came to support me the day Lucy died
29. Painted the entire interior of my house 
30. Made us and Gma matching Easter outfits, at my request 
31. Played in the handbell choir with me
32. Made me curtains for every place I’ve lived
33. Let me tell you that something you made me was ugly or beautiful 
34. Sewed me the greatest twirling dresses a girl could ever dream of 
35. Studied The Bible 
36. Went to Turkey and Greece with me
37. Point me to Jesus always, in triumph and trial
38. Prayed for me every Friday with Bonnie
39. Showed me what a good friend looks, acts, sounds, and loves like
40. Hugged me tight and prayed for me every time I left for a trip
41. Listened intently to all my stories when I returned 
42. Said, “thank you Jesus!” all the time 
43. Made up her own words: glish 
44. Can swing everything around to something positive 
45. Has been to all of my softball games, even the ones at 8:30pm, armed with quilts to keep warm
46. Loves to look at the ocean
47. Takes extremely good care of Gma

So this is where you can come in to complete the list with 23 more things that you love about my mom. Write them right there in the comments and I'll add them in. 

This hike is what she wanted to do for her 70th birthday

We made it all the way to Avila Beach

Born in Holland

Being the younger sister of a brother with a developmental disability is like being born in Holland and having all of your first experiences with the backdrop of windmills, Rembrandts, and tulips. These things were not special, they were commonplace. A Rembrandt was just a painting. Sure they looked different from other paintings and yes, I could spot one from a mile away. But that didn't make them special, it made them familiar. Sitting among the tulips wasn't memorable, it was comfortable. Playing around the windmills wasn't a choice, it was a reality. A beautiful reality to be sure but everyone knows that flowers wilt, windmills break, and paintings get scribbled on with markers and knocked off the wall.

It turns out that the thing everyone knew, that I didn't know, was that I'm actually supposed to have grown up in Italy. My parents grew up in Italy and my first born brother was born there. It wasn't until my second born brother was born that my family had to move to Holland. They didn't have a choice. They all lived in Holland for almost 4 years before I was born. I like to pretend that part of me always knew but I really didn't. I don't know exactly when I figured it out. There is no specific moment when I discovered the truth. There was nothing hidden to dig up. The truth was always in front of me and I just gradually comprehended and absorbed it. I was the only member of the family who didn't have to adjust to a new country and it's culture but I found myself struggling to relate to Italians. 

So which culture am I from? I'm not Dutch but I'm not Italian either. I'm in some sort of third category. Dutchian? Italiutch? I know I relate well to Dutch people but I am supposed to relate best to Italians. Dutch people accept me but I'm not one of them. Italians praise me for my "special skills" in relating to Dutch people but, partially because of those skills, I'm not one of them either.

All I want is for both cultures to understand each other and include each other in shared communities. I will translate, interpret, build a human bridge to help people get over their differences, and ignore my own need for acceptance to get the job done. The fact is that I'm neither Dutch or Italian. I'm a sibling and that I shall always be.