Many days I want my grandma's life. She has lived within the same 8 mile radius all 83 years. She has resided in homes from farms to city-dwellings to suburban ranches to homestead condos. She raised her four children in that same sphere, with them still under her care and mutually caring today. Each now lives within fifteen minutes of her home, and all her grandchildren (ten plus spouses) and great-grand children (marking twenty-four this year) reside within the same 20 mile circle. Her photo bulletin board is collaged with family photos, each known by heart and name, all close and dear to her home and soul.
Grandma's house is always busy. Her children chatter over coffee, grandchildren drop off great-grandchildren for childcare, and others meander in and out with this and that and everything in between. Over the years she has filled her home with countless Christmas gatherings, birthday parties, Easter dinners, game nights, and summer sleep overs -- all long anticipated and hopefully awaited.
Her friends are known in the family. Five best friends from grandma's Kindergarten class still have lunch each month, with a high school friend added to her calendar weekly. Friendships through the years hold true: from Calvin Christian School families to South Grandville Church. For thirty years Grandma has dined in the same restruant each morning with the same group of 16 people, a Breakfast Club established and committed for life and all the daily happenings inbetween. Friendships born, formed, raised, and lived all in Grandville, Michigan with every context understood and memory lived together.
Grandma's circle is small in geography, but spilling over with love. It's layered with history, embraced with warmth, and stitched snug with those who care because of the years of dedication, memories, and challenges they've experienced together. What a beautiful life.
God has called me to a different life. A life of revolving doors. I sat at my kitchen table last January gathering four friends for our first Cooking Club and realized within two years, they would disperse to Malaysia, Spain, and Virginia. That about sums up my how I feel most days in Charlotte -- people either coming or going into my heart and life, but very few staying. A transient place to be, and my heart feels the tired tension of it. Finding it necessary to care deeply in friendships that are temporary, form friendships with little history and flimsy future, and live with constant good-byes and while remaining hopeful for hellos.
I moved 30+ times in the years from 18-29. My five best friends (bridesmaids) live in five different states. My memories are shared and made with those on 5 continents. My family is 800 miles away. My wedding invite list consisted of people residing in 12 states. My phone bill shows calls to Seattle, Greenville, Ann Arbor, Indianapolis, Byron Center, Denver, Raleigh, Milwaukee to Chicago. My husband is only really known to my Charlotte people, and my family only really known to my Michigan people.
I know some of these are privileges, but most days, I just want everyone here: at my table, in my city. I want to stop by the Busschers on a Friday night with games to play. I want Amy at my table for chicken turnovers and Kate in my green room with coffee. I want to take Jenny, Missy, and Laura to Zada Janes and picnic in the park with Kate, Clara, and Grace. I want love in my space.
But God called has me here, with a life with a revolving door. He gives and takes away. As Judy leaves, Kendra comes. As Trish packs, Lauren decorates. My grandma's life is beautiful and full and filled with longevity in space and place and people and purpose. She is known and loved and enveloped and satisified in geography and relationship. My life is a constant flow of new and unknown, retelling one-dimensional histories and creating distant futures, only connected or known as present. The challenge to me is this: trusting God while releasing those I let go and welcoming those I let in.
