Changes and Constants by Carolyn

My family reunion was yesterday. My mother's family has, as long as I can remember, held a reunion each summer. Some aspects remain constant through the years, some aspects change, much like everything else in our lives. My mother was one of seven children; I am one of 23 first-cousins. We cousins are now in our forties, fifties, or sixties. Most of us are parents and some of us are grandparents, so two more generations have been added to the fray.

One of the best things that happened yesterday was the gift one of my cousins gave me of a thumb drive full of photos from the past several reunions. Such a treasure! As I looked through the photos, I was struck by the changes that have happened over the last few years, as well as the things that have endured.

Through the years, we have always had our reunions at low-cost venues. We are not the kind of family that books whole floors at swanky hotels or travels to exotic locations or swarms onto a cruise ship en masse. We tend to hold our reunions in the backyards of family members or around picnic tables at public parks. This has not changed. The duration of the reunions has changed, though: in my youth, we spent an entire weekend at our reunions, often at Bastrop State Park. We rented cabins and communed together for a couple of days. The kids swam and walked through the woods and biked on the trails. The grownups played dominoes and cards and horseshoes. We all chatted and laughed and forged family bonds. These days, our reunions only last one afternoon. Our lives seem to have gotten busier and busier, and there are often many family members who cannot attend our gatherings.

We have always eaten well at our family reunions. We are not the sort of people to have our food catered - it is always good ol' home cooking, nothing fancy, but always abundant and delicious. There have always been, and probably always will be, several different casseroles and favorites such as potato salad, baked beans, fried chicken, and ham. And the desserts . . . banana pudding, lemon meringue pie, chocolate cake. It all tastes like home. And we always say grace before the meal. Even if our family members never pray in their private lives, or only enter a church to attend a wedding or a funeral, we all join in giving thanks for our food and our fellowship. We honor the heritage of our ancestors' strong Christian faith. (This year, however, I missed the prayer because my three-year-old grandson, Jude, got tired of waiting for everyone to gather around. He pulled me out of the circle by the hand and led me to his full plate waiting on the table. I feel somewhat less guilty because we did sing the "Thank You, Jesus" song he has learned in Mothers' Day Out together.)

As time has gone on, we have lost many of our family members. My grandparents, my mother, two of her sisters, and three of my cousins have passed away, as well as my husband, my brother-in-law, and three uncles by marriage. We mourn together over those we have lost. We tell stories about the good memories we have of them, and laugh together over silly things. We cry, but we also smile because there are almost always new babies making their debut at one of the reunions. (Our newest family member this year was my granddaughter, Malin. It puffed me up a little bit to hear my relatives exclaim over how beautiful she is!) There is always an abundance of children. Some run around, wending their way through small clusters of their elders, looking for something to eat or something to amuse themselves. The teens lounge about looking bored. They have not yet learned to value the importance of family gatherings, especially with people they only see once a year. They don't realize that the stories we tell are their own history, their own inheritance.

I remember going to the family reunions every year with my mother when I was a child, a teenager, and a young woman. I remember taking my children to the reunions when they were babies, young boys, and teenagers. Now I am going to the family reunions with my grown sons, my daughter-in-law, and my own grandchildren. I am grateful that my boys will make the effort to go with me. They have come to understand how important that family connection is to me.

There is always lots of conversation at our gatherings. The older generation tells about what they remember of their parents and grandparents and growing up together. My generation reminisces about adventures as cousins together or catch up on whatever has changed in our lives since last year. We talk about the tragedies and the triumphs that befall our family members.

I am worried that, as the older generation passes on and my generation of cousins continues to age and lead their separate lives, and family members move farther away from central Texas, there will be no strong bond among the younger generations. The family connection will be stretched thinner and thinner. Our reunions will likely die down to a just a handful of people, and then down to something that only happened in the distant past. It is a melancholy thought; but for now, I cherish the bond that unites me to these beloved people. We are a family.

On Becoming Grandparents by Andrea

On October 12, my husband and I became grandparents for the very first time. Here are just a few of the feelings I can put into words.

*I wish I could adequately express what it was like to see my own grandchild for the first time. 
     Kai made his arrival lighting quick.  At 10:47 pm, we got a call from my son to "leave the house because IT is going down NOW!" I let out a little loud cheer then gingerly (shoulder surgery kept me from charging) climbed the stairs to deliver the news and to hasten my hubby's preparations. We thought we would have time to shower and take a quick nap before driving the hour and forty-five minutes from Cedar Park to San Antonio.
    King Kai, as our son refers to him, had other royal plans and summoned all of his loyal subjects together suddenly.  By 11:11 pm, Daddy Damien had called back. Excitedly but distractedly he yelled into the phone, "He's here!  He's here!" before breathlessly uttering some words about needing to be by his wife's side and hanging up the phone.  I was thrilled she was well and proud that he knew she needed to be his priority.  A knot started to form in my throat as I let the words 'he's here!' sink in.  I yelled upstairs to make the pronouncement of the his majesty's arrival.  The thought "We are now Noni and Pop" filled my mind as my heart tried to fully comprehend the enormity of it all.
     I looked down at my cell phone screen a few seconds later, and there appeared our newest pride and joy.  Our little prince came in at a whopping 8 lbs 7 oz., 21.5 inches long. And he looked every bit of it with his mouth gaped open in a wail, the sweet sound that every obstetrician and new parent longs to hear.
    And I wept.  Soft, steady, sweet tears. Every joy, every hope, every prayer dripped from my eyes as I took in every aspect of him, another miracle born into our family.  Oh, to live that feeling over and over again.

Our first photo of the big guy!

*Holding my grandson for the first time was a lot like holding his father for the first time, but also a lot different.
     Readers, if you will recall from a previous writing about my life, I told you Damien came to me when I was 16 years old.  Despite my youth, I fully understood and appreciated the beauty and responsibility which were part and parcel of being a new mom.  I held him with fierce devotion and adoration while denying feelings of overwhelming insecurity as the automatic recognition of the enormity of the task of bringing up another human being washed over me.  At once, I was awed and afraid.
     With Kai, I did not feel the insecurity.  Humility swept over me as, subconsciously, I realized how privileged we are to have a chance at life with this little person.  Love showered my heart and soul as an infinite number of hopes and dreams seem to converge on his sleeping face.  Yet, I felt no fear or doubt as I held him.  Maybe this is the secret of grand-parenting versus parenting.  We have brought up a human being who is more than capable of bringing up another.  In this I find comfort and peace. I get to enjoy, not fret (at least not over the same things as his parents). I get to devote my time and attention fully to him, not to all the fears and what ifs that come with parenting for the first time.  Mostly because, I know in end he will turn out just fine because I know who his parents are.

*I always knew my son would make a great father.
      Because of the adoration and respect he has for his wife, I knew she would be a great mother. Watching them with Kai during the first day of his life brought such pride.  They may not feel completely confident and sure, but they are acting the part quite well.  They have made decisions for Kai's best interest with focus and certainty as if they'd been caring for him for years.  They know him already.  They can already speak of his likes and needs.  Damien has 5 younger siblings and scores of cousins and play cousins.  He has spent years inadvertently preparing for this time.  But the rubber meets the road when its your child.  He is embracing his all-important ocean of responsibility with grace and confidence that comes from one who has prayed for his child.  Our grand-baby is in expert hands. I tell my son, "A lot of people know a lot of things about babies, but you are the one who knows everything about your baby.  Pray, then trust yourself."