Cleavers aren’t real

There is no perfect family, this I know.

There is no family where hurt does not happen, no family where mom and dad love everyone best, no family where disappointments don’t bite, no family where stumbles and embarrassments are handled with consummate grace.

And, there is nothing like family to teach us about our own snargles, foibles, shine and being.

When we are in the midst of tussles and hurt, it feels impossible, this thing called “family”.  We cannot imagine a time when ease will be.  We cannot imagine getting past the elephants of disappointment and betrayal that loom so large.

But time?  Time, she is great gift.  If we can hold on to the sacred and tricky threads that are blood and shared history, we can sometimes find our way back into hearts softened by humility and grace.

When we come home to each other, the real that is shared is precious.  We know the pain of distance, and we trust each other enough to learn the unique nuances of heart that beat between us.

We are kin, true.  And, with time we learn that we are different from each other and our stories vary widely and this is good.

On this day, I am praying thanks to God for the challenge and blessing that is family.

The ways we learn the stunning power of love and forgiveness from and with each other make me crazy grateful.

 

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