I am the one that moved away.
Maybe you are, too. Or maybe you’re one that stayed, or returned, and are still there.
I’m talking about home - the places where we grew up, were raised, or spent our childhood. For some of us, it’s the place where our parents still live, or maybe even where generations of our family have lived.
For me, it is the town where I grew up, north of Boston, and where most of my family lives - all within a 15 mile radius of each other.
Right now, I am 2,334 miles away from that place.
It’s an interesting experience to be the one that moved away. Much of the time it doesn’t feel strange or difficult. But, sometimes, it can be really hard. Like when my niece gets engaged and all of the women in the family are able to go with her to try on wedding dresses, or when my sister’s house is in the midst of a major kitchen renovation, or when there is an impromptu family dinner around my parents pool.
Perhaps the most difficult time to be far away is when health issues arise or emergencies happen.
With my parents getting older, and chronic and sudden health issues that arise, I’ve had the conversation with my sisters about wanting to be called. I want to be kept in the loop about things, especially health stuff. Thankfully, we are all on the same page with that.
So, when an emergency happens, I get a call.
Prior to this year, when we lived in central New York, this meant being about a 6-7 hour car ride away. But this year, while we are on the road, it means needing to know where the closest airport is in case I need to fly back. And, the expectation is not that I’ll rush right there at any point (at least I don’t think it is). But, the possibility is always there.
For me, as the one that moved away, there is a constant tugging toward home - a sense of guilt when I miss important milestones, or even everyday things in my families life.
And, for me, living in suburban Boston is not for me - at least not right now.
I love the place where I grew up, and I love my family. Some people have asked if I have something against the town or my family - I don’t.
It is possible to love something deeply and choose to do or pursue something else. It is not required to dislike something in order to like something else.
So, in my choice to live elsewhere, and in my choice to travel, there is also a choice to be my favorite version of myself. This way, when I do go home, I can be most present with the people I love.
I am grateful for technology - phones and other devices that allow me to video chat with my family. I “drop in” on my parents every few days to catch up and check in. And, my nieces were able to video chat me in when she found the dress (and she looked stunning!). And, as we’ve all learned during COVID, while we’ve been forced to live on zoom, it’s not the same as being in person.
But, it is how I do family these days.
A few weeks back I wrote about finding home wherever I am. I wrote about the ways that, as human beings, we can adapt and find a sense of belonging in our lives. Part of what I wrote about had to do with my little family and how we find home where we are.
I’m not sure if it is because I am a military spouse, or if I am just hardwired to adapt, but I have learned how important it is to be flexible and open to the different ways family and home happen in our lives.
Some holidays everyone will be together, and other years there will be some people missing. Sometimes work, or travel, or illness, or financial difficulties, or family drama, or just plain exhaustion will mean that there are different faces around the table. Sometimes our family holidays will consist of our friends who are chosen family - and there is something so beautiful about that.
As the holiday season approaches, I know that many of us are maneuvering through the sometimes challenging waters of planning, travel, and connection.
This can be so stressful for so many of us - that tugging to one place (or multiple places), and the tugging to be true to yourself and your immediate family.
Many will say, “all that matters is that we are together.” I have to say that, for me, this is not the case. Sometimes we simply can’t be together, or it doesn’t make sense to be together. And, we can still share care and compassion and love with one another. Just because someone is not physically present doesn’t mean they don’t care. There are different ways to show up for the people we love.
Human beings are incredibly resilient and creative. The ways we can show love and care for one another are endless, if we only open ourselves to the possibilities.
So, whether you’re the one who moved away, the one who stayed, the one who sometimes feels alone, or the one who feels overwhelmed by your family all up in your business:
I wish for you moments of connection that feel nourishing and good;
I wish for you moments of clarity about your sense of place in the world;
I wish for you a sense of belonging and family, whether it is with your family of origin, or your chosen family, or you and your dog or cat.
My prayer for all of us is that we might open ourselves to the different ways we gather with the people we love, and that we might have patience with each other as we figure it all out.
Wherever you call home, may it be a place of calm, security, and love.
Whoever you call family, may they welcome you with open arms.
However you find belonging, may it be in a way that is nourishing and healing for you.
May you remember, always, that you are loved.
This week’s Invitation to Deepening: How can you open yourself to new ways of understanding family and home? What might you learn about yourself in that process?
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