aufhebung

thoughts personal, public and everything in between

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

a family christmas



I’ve taken a longer hiatus from my blog than I had intended. Karla & I were gone several days for Christmas. Then, shortly after we returned, the neuropathy in my hands flared up so badly that I was unable to type. (Heck, I couldn’t even brush my own teeth for a day or two.) My hands still hurt, but the burning and swelling have begun to subside, and frankly, I’m sick of being able to do nothing but lie on the couch in front of the TV, so let me give it a shot.

For Christmas, we all converged at my mom’s place in San Jose: my mom and step-dad, my dad and step-mom from Tennessee, my sister and her two college-aged kids from Alabama, my brother with his wife and son, my two step-brothers and their families, my youngest brother, my aunt and cousin from Florida, and Karla and me. It was a large gathering in more ways than one, and one that tells a pretty rich story.

Lynne was ten, Todd five, and I seven when Mom and Dad divorced. As children, we found it easy enough to cast Carol as the woman who split up our home, but in reality all she did was show up at the right time. Either way, she and Dad were married a year later, and within the following two years Mom met and married Don. By that time I was in the fifth grade, and living apart from my father had becoming increasingly difficult. All four parents agreed to the new arrangement: I would live with Dad, Carol and her two boys, Brad and Steve; and Lynne and Todd would stay with Mom and Don. Several months later, Carol gave birth to Eric, and the six of us left San Jose for the small lumber town of Janesville, high in the northern Sierras.

Years later, as a youth pastor, I worked with enough broken homes and witnessed enough hostility between divorced parents to gain a profound appreciation for my own. I had never heard them disparage each other, never felt called upon to choose between them, never felt as if my stepparents thought of me as someone else’s child. It’s not enough to say that my parents remained civil to each other, for at some point the civility became genuine friendship. My dad’s sister has remained my mom’s confidant and traveling companion for over thirty years. My stepmother’s three sons always know that they have a place to hang out at my mom’s house. And if one set of parents is ever in the vicinity of the other, they invariably get together.

And there we were, every one of us piled into Mom’s living room on Christmas Eve to exchange gifts.

I can’t idealize my family. No need to groan about past wounds at this point, but we had our share of dysfunction, and several of us have required some form of therapy or another. But when I see Mom and Carol reminiscing on the front porch, or Dad taking a grandfather-grandson walk with Brad’s son Mitch, I’m reminded that God has been very good to our family. Our failings simply bring that goodness into sharper relief.

William Willimon once suggested that the most ontologically instructive part of the human anatomy is the belly button. A dot in the center of our bodies, whose function ceases moments after we’re born, it remains there to the day we die as a reminder that we did not create ourselves, that we came from other people, flawed people to whom we owe an unpayable debt of gratitude and whose biological and psychological fingerprints form a huge part of our own identity. I would suggest that this extends not only to our forebears by blood, but also to the communities and traditions that shaped us before we ever knew enough to consent to their influence. We have been largely formed by others, and to despise our roots is to despise our very selves. So God commands, “Honor your father and mother.” Love the streams that contributed to your becoming who you are. This is not a command to idolize your roots, to accept their every influence uncritically, to imitate them in every way, to refuse outside voices that might challenge the values and loyalties instilled in you when you were younger. It’s certainly not a command to pretend that the people who shaped you never hurt you. But honor them, forgive their failings and acknowledge their gifts, thank God for them. In so doing you learn to honor yourself.

10 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dear Scott and Karla, I am glad everyone was able to get together at Christmas time, they loved your playing the guitar, I am sorry you are not feeling well. I know their was alot of laughing and alot of crying but the main thing is I am glad everyone got together. We all love you and Karla and will keep praying that you will have better days. Love, Cousin Janet

2/1/07 12:18 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I was so thankful just to see your message. It was great to read too. But seeing it told me that you had at least SOME use of your hands again. Enjoyed your comments and the pictures you selected. What a wonderful visit we all had. Is Dallas still doable, and if so, when do you leave? Love you. Mom

3/1/07 3:42 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Scott: Rick N. was supposed to give my your email address but hasn't (he's in loooove) and I found your blog. Email me. I've been praying for you. Joe from S.ville. maryscapular@yahoo.com

3/1/07 4:14 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dear Scott: Our Christmas gathering left my heart so full -- I read your "Family Christmas" blog entry eagerly and with much pleasure.

I hope your hands are feeling better.

Love Always from Lynne

4/1/07 8:34 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Scott,

I am so that glad Grandma & Aunt Linda got to spend the holiday with you and the family. Those trips are always so special to them.

I have to say, I think about you and your courage everyday. And am so glad that even though our time together in New York was short, we had it.

Wishing you well,
Tracy

6/1/07 10:47 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Scott--
Thanks so much for sharing this insightful post. Pam joins me in wishing you and Karla a fulfilling 2007!

In friendship,
--Charlie

6/1/07 3:21 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hi Scott and Karla, Mom and Aunt Doris keep me up to date,I'm getting in the habit of reading your blog so I hope to keep in touch a bit more. The Christmas trip was so special, a true gift!I send love to you and all the Beckers, your cousin Carolyn

7/1/07 8:29 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Scott, I really enjoyed reading about your unique family experience! I'm wondering if a voice recorder might help if you can't use your hands? You could at least get all the thoughts bottled up inside "out" and someone else could type them? It's just a thought. I don't really know how that would work for me--I'm much better at articulating things in a written form than orally, but I thought I'd suggest it.

7/1/07 5:50 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hi Scott, You and Karla are in my prayers and in Vonnie's too. God bless you both. I miss being out west where people are not afraid to hear the hard truths. - Virgil

29/1/07 8:51 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hi Scott, It is me again. I like your websight. Vonnie said that Karla probably won't remember her but tell her hi anyway. If you have time drop me a note. vcs@venturecomm.net

29/1/07 2:36 PM  

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