Every time I attempt to tell "my story," my thoughts become so jumbled I can hardly say a complete sentence. I also want to give a disclaimer that as a follower of Christ I cannot help but tie every event in my life to my relationship with Him in some way, shape, or form. I also want to say that I love my family tremendously and am so grateful to God for them, so I have prayed that anything seemingly negative I write would be seen through grace giving eyes. Please forgive this "babbling," I'll do it the only way I know how.
I suppose I should start with my parents. They grew up in the same area and went to High School together in Pinole, CA. I can't remember if they dated in high school or just after they graduated... not that that particular detail matters, but they were very young. Neither of my parents were believers when they married. Together, they went on an emotional roller coaster of sorts, so a lot of my early memories have the same feel. Some things in our family were so wonderful and some things I would rather not remember at all. I suppose that is true for most people.
Both of my parents are passionate, sensitive people. I'm pretty sure that apathy is the emotion that they would both find unfamiliar. On one hand, I love that about them both. On the other, I fear it. When I hear people say that they never talked or felt like their parents were "closed," I can hardly imagine it. Even if they were screaming at each other, thoughts and feelings rarely went unexpressed or held in for long. As you can imagine, that made some arguments pretty explosive. That happens when fire and dynamite interact. Hind sight is 20/20 and as an adult I have realized what things were that I did not fully understand as a child. For the purposes of something that is about to be printed on the Internet, the details are not so important. Let's just say that things got rocky (and scary) pretty early on.
My mom will tell you she was just lost and wandering. She had asked her parents for help so many times. And his, for that matter. My grandparents on both sides did what they could, but neither of my parents could figure out exactly how to make it work and to be perfectly frank, they were too stubborn and selfish at the time to do so. I know they both look back and regret a lot from that season life. They have both said so. My mom, mostly out of fear, started taking me and two of my younger sisters to a little Lutheran church down the road. Those precious people took our family in. They cared for us and provided for us in some of our hardest times. They shared the gospel with her and my mom was utterly and completely turned upside down by the grace of God. There were no cultural motivations for claiming Christ - The Bay Area is hardly the Bible belt. And while sanctification is a slow and, at times, painful process - my mom was a markedly different lady. Christ had captured her heart. And this lady was primarily responsible for my upbringing.
My mom was in and out of a few relationships after she and my dad divorced. I did not speak to my dad again until I was almost 19 years old. She remarried when I was 10. Tony had been in our life for some time. He and my dad were friends at one time. Now that I think about it, they are not so different from one another. Tony loved my mom. And us. I called him Dad. I even took on his last name even though legally I could not. He was wonderfully charming and usually had the best of intentions. He moved our family to Texas when I was in 7th grade, which was a critical turning point in my life. It was that year that Christ captured my heart and I began to relate to God on my own and not just through my mom or the church. And while things weren't perfect (no family is), we were fairly functional. We went to church together. We spent time together as a family.
I think it was more of a blow when Tony left than when my dad left (or was it my mom?). I think with my parents, it was a relief. Things were just so bad. With Tony, it felt so personal. I will never forget my mom's face when she heard from his lips that there was someone else and he was not coming home. I have never felt God's hand and seen His provision so clearly like I did during that time. Even more so than when my mom first came to know the Lord. Again, the church that we were a part of at that time was the healing balm for my family, the means God used to administer grace. They made sure we weren't alone. They came and fixed things in our house. They invited us into their homes. Often. Even on Christmas. They prayed.
Now before this gets any more dramatic than necessary, I want to speak of the things that I think my family passed on to me that I am proud of. I will leave you to make your own inferences about the things I am not. I don't have time to tell it now, but the story of how my dad and I were reconciled is worth telling. I may do that another time. From him I learned passion. He is a work 'em hard, play 'em hard kind of guy. All or nothing. He is also a generous gift giver. He is creative and thoughtful in the way he gives them. From my mom, I learned hospitality. She welcomes in the outsider. My mom has a way of making connections with every person she meets - no matter how different they are from her. She is light-hearted and fun. She makes the most of the worst situations and still manages to laugh when she should be crying her eyes out. (Don't get me wrong, she does that too - which I definitely inherited from her). She is one of the hardest workers I know. She is a loyal and dedicated friend.
I could go on and mention the things that God has given me through my grandparents (Grandma Joan is also worthy of her own post) and my sisters, but you are probably tired of reading at this point. But I do want to sum up my heritage with two words. Grace and Redemption. If ever I could see grace fleshed out, I see it in my family. I am a firm believer that he who has been forgiven much loves much. If you were to meet my family today, you might not even suspect that things were so broken at one point (unless you took note of all the different last names). And I am blown away at how God continues to redeem even my own heart.
Thanks, Amy.
Posted by: david | June 13, 2006 at 05:47 AM
Wow. Very well done Amy. A couple of thoughts/confessions that I have to share. When I think of our time at church together, your family always comes to my mind. I always enjoyed being around your family. After moving, I looked forward to my summer visits because I loved having my grandmother drop me off and spending a day with you and your sisters. Your Mom is awesome. I thought so 15 years ago, and now I see a lot of her in you. You and your sisters were a lot closer than many siblings that I see now (including mine). I also have always believed that by the time you were 18, you were wiser and more mature than most others. I think your childhood and upraising had a lot to do with that. I still have a letter from you in 1998 where you knew what God's calling in life was for you. I was impressed then, and I have to admit that it took me about 7 more years to find mine. I really enjoyed reading this, and have always felt blessed to know you and your family.
Posted by: Mick | June 13, 2006 at 10:16 AM