Earlier this week Mike and Bridget asked us: "What brought you to Mustard Seed this year?" Unsure of of my answer on the spot, I delayed (but I couldn't escape a cross-fire stare competition from Mike for not answering at the time). It was hard to answer on the spot because I don't think about the "why" anymore. It's tradition. It's part of my life. It's an annual family vacation.
On my return each year, I measure how I've grown up throughout the year and (hopefully) how I've applied lessons learned from the previous year's trip in Boston. This year, the idea of family is on my mind...
We're getting older (as Kevin keeps reminding me because his joints ache), and several of the team members are in serious relationships - including Mike and Carla's marriage over the summer. I have to daydream what the future holds for me. For several years, I didn't want kids, and work was #1. My life's priorities have changed, and maybe career isn't this "Granola's" #1 priority anymore (a fun Jamaica nickname for my yoga alter-ego).
I come here to one of my families. It's easy to identify the kids as "our kids," but the team's family dynamic is truly unique, and I come back to this family, in part, to form the vision of the family I want to have someday.
A perfect example as I write this, is most of the team is going to bed; but Bridge, Kevin, Meaghan, Andrew, Mike, Casey, Carla and I are sitting in the common room. We're all exhausted; Mike and Andrew are fighting over the volume of the music; Kevin and I are trying to make a point to Mike (who's not listening); and I'm trying to thoughtfully blog. Sounds like a family antic to me. The others just wait for our ruckus to stop.
My first year here I was struck by mealtime tradition. Twenty of us would gather together for dinner; sit down together; linger at the table recapping the day; and wash dishes together. I was moved by how naturally we came together and helped the other with the pre- and post- chores just because. No one asked for help, but that's what people who love each other do.
I had pictured a happy, excited reunion with the tight-hugging and energetic Steffan on Saturday when we arrived. I couldn't wait to run up and grab him. Instead, I was met with a limp boy who didn't get out of bed for the day and barely recognized me. His meds changed, and he's still trying to adjust. I think that I felt 1/10 of how a mom feels when her son is sick, and she can't help.
The Early Breakfast Club is a funny tradition. Kevin and I started waking up before the sun a couple of years ago and drinking coffee before anyone else would arise. The team caught on to our coffee thievery, and now we're joined by Nisha, Mike, and Andrew each morning to see the sky light up over the mountains.
Perhaps my glory moment of the week was at Jerusalem yesterday. I mentioned that I didn't want kids for a while and still really struggle with babies and toddlers. I'm not someone who's great at high pitched voices and baby noises and non-conversations. I cherish the love and hugs they give but am self-conscious of my interactions with them. We exited the bus and spotted JoAnna - a small schoolgirl on her way to Little Angels (the onsite school). Mike said something like, "Oh, this cutie's mine. Can you hold this paper, Julie?" I took it as he bent down with his arms extended wide and a huge smile, urging her to run in for a hug. She beelined it toward him and made a sudden sharp right turn for... me? I was more shocked than anyone, but it made me believe for that moment that I do have it in me to carry all these family traditions with me to create my own one day.
It scares me to think about each of us growing up too much. Eventually, most of the group will be married and have kids and move about the country. We can't stay in our 20s, 30s, and 40s forever (I'm told). I hate thinking about the day when just some of us will return and it won't be the same. But until then, all I can do is live inside the moments that we are here - and our family is still this tight. For as long as I can, I'll keep coming back to Jamaica without re-questioning my decision each year. This is tradition. And we're a family. That's what you do.
--Julie (4th year)
On my return each year, I measure how I've grown up throughout the year and (hopefully) how I've applied lessons learned from the previous year's trip in Boston. This year, the idea of family is on my mind...
We're getting older (as Kevin keeps reminding me because his joints ache), and several of the team members are in serious relationships - including Mike and Carla's marriage over the summer. I have to daydream what the future holds for me. For several years, I didn't want kids, and work was #1. My life's priorities have changed, and maybe career isn't this "Granola's" #1 priority anymore (a fun Jamaica nickname for my yoga alter-ego).
I come here to one of my families. It's easy to identify the kids as "our kids," but the team's family dynamic is truly unique, and I come back to this family, in part, to form the vision of the family I want to have someday.
A perfect example as I write this, is most of the team is going to bed; but Bridge, Kevin, Meaghan, Andrew, Mike, Casey, Carla and I are sitting in the common room. We're all exhausted; Mike and Andrew are fighting over the volume of the music; Kevin and I are trying to make a point to Mike (who's not listening); and I'm trying to thoughtfully blog. Sounds like a family antic to me. The others just wait for our ruckus to stop.
My first year here I was struck by mealtime tradition. Twenty of us would gather together for dinner; sit down together; linger at the table recapping the day; and wash dishes together. I was moved by how naturally we came together and helped the other with the pre- and post- chores just because. No one asked for help, but that's what people who love each other do.
I had pictured a happy, excited reunion with the tight-hugging and energetic Steffan on Saturday when we arrived. I couldn't wait to run up and grab him. Instead, I was met with a limp boy who didn't get out of bed for the day and barely recognized me. His meds changed, and he's still trying to adjust. I think that I felt 1/10 of how a mom feels when her son is sick, and she can't help.
The Early Breakfast Club is a funny tradition. Kevin and I started waking up before the sun a couple of years ago and drinking coffee before anyone else would arise. The team caught on to our coffee thievery, and now we're joined by Nisha, Mike, and Andrew each morning to see the sky light up over the mountains.
Perhaps my glory moment of the week was at Jerusalem yesterday. I mentioned that I didn't want kids for a while and still really struggle with babies and toddlers. I'm not someone who's great at high pitched voices and baby noises and non-conversations. I cherish the love and hugs they give but am self-conscious of my interactions with them. We exited the bus and spotted JoAnna - a small schoolgirl on her way to Little Angels (the onsite school). Mike said something like, "Oh, this cutie's mine. Can you hold this paper, Julie?" I took it as he bent down with his arms extended wide and a huge smile, urging her to run in for a hug. She beelined it toward him and made a sudden sharp right turn for... me? I was more shocked than anyone, but it made me believe for that moment that I do have it in me to carry all these family traditions with me to create my own one day.
It scares me to think about each of us growing up too much. Eventually, most of the group will be married and have kids and move about the country. We can't stay in our 20s, 30s, and 40s forever (I'm told). I hate thinking about the day when just some of us will return and it won't be the same. But until then, all I can do is live inside the moments that we are here - and our family is still this tight. For as long as I can, I'll keep coming back to Jamaica without re-questioning my decision each year. This is tradition. And we're a family. That's what you do.
--Julie (4th year)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment