Has it been a year? Yesterday, I fussed over the things I would bring to our 81st annual reunion.
It was the same scenario a year ago. But the packed bag stayed put—and got unpacked later in the afternoon. That day last year replays in slomo in my mind today. But the anxiety has been replaced by a quiet resolve to keep going.
Tony then had difficulty breathing even with slight exertion. He had decided to stay home but was insistent for me, the boys, and my sister Aie to go. I had to quickly plan a ruse—and to his surprise I stayed. Then Sammy (our driver) and I rushed to buy him a wheelchair. He and Judge, our pet dog, couldn’t understand what it was for.
Mother Teresa, Sammy, and I begged him to please use it; he did for a few minutes to humor us, but decided to simply lie down and read a book. And the next day . . .
This bag is finally going to that reunion—a chance to bond with nieces, nephews, and grandkids.
Only one third of the clan population will be there (from Dec. 30 to Jan. 1) because of diaspora. But our number is enough to call it a crowd. This, my mom’s side of the family, is huge.
There, we will soak in the grace of laughter to end the year and start a new one.
"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." 1 Peter 5:7 NIV
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