Remembering

Having been married now for three years, I find myself still adjusting to considering my "in-laws" family. I truly feel bonded and connected to them in a familial way, but still have trouble calling them just mom instead of "keith's mom", etc. I find myself eager for the baby so that they I can just call her grandma... somehow that's easier.

The most frustrating part of all this is that I can't really put my finger on where the struggle to say the words comes from. I truly want to say them. My family won't feel betrayed or abandoned by calling someone else "mom", so what's my deal? It's further complicated by the fact that Keith just jumped right into calling my parents mom and dad. In my mind, it reveals part of his nature - to be so completely loving and transparent with everyone. So do I reflect the opposite nature by avoiding addressing these people at all costs? I think at the root of it all, it reveals more of a reluctance to change. The good news is that condition isn't permanent, I hope.

I also certainly can't blame any of them for making it difficult. I'll never forget the first time I spent real quality time with Keith's family. We weren't married yet - had only been dating a few months (which just happens to be a significant percentage of our courtship, but that's another story). The Hogans had rented a cabin on Lake Michigan for the weekend. Grandma Nancy was still living with them, so she was there. And Aunt Hallie was visiting from San Diego, so she came as well. Mom, dad, Keith and Faith and Troy made it a full house.

Hallie, Mom and grandma shared the room with twin beds, Troy and Faith slept in the basement, Keith and dad crashed on couches in the living room and I got the master room to myself. (Told you they don't make it difficult to feel welcome). I thought it would be a relaxing and quiet weekend at the lake. I hadn't met Aunt Hallie.

Every time I returned to "my" room, there was a new discovery of fake poop. I found pine cones shaped like poop on my pillow. Rocks shaped like poop on the floor. Rubber poop in my bag. A dirty diaper on the dresser. She was a never ending bag of tricks. They tried to teach me the Hartley Duck Lips (to no avail) and we laughed about boob jobs and botox. I bought my first pair of "billy bob" teeth. I learned family secrets. Quiet it was not. But it was comfortable, like only spending time with family really can be.

Grandma Nancy passed away about a year later. And then Aunt Hallie got sick. This weekend is Aunt Hallie's and mom's birthday (they were born on the same day, exactly two years apart) as well as the anniversary of her death. I've been thinking about her a lot this week, and praying for her husband and girls - and mom, too. With each thought, I'm struck by how close to home it feels. Hallie's death affected my family, not just Keith's. That awareness is a gift from above, I think.

When I think about Hallie's memorial, I think about the scene below - of mom and Rachel and Lane and Little Hallie all dancing in celebration of such a dear sister, aunt, friend.

Hogan genes

I've always pictured my baby looking like a Johnson.
But I have two nephews now, who are cousins of each other, who look as though they could be brothers.
The good news is they're both dang cute.

Meet Yazzie. He's wearing pink because he lives in Bangladesh and they don't really care about our social norms. It's a miracle we got these pictures - the internet there is slower than customer service at Verizon.


And I think Yazzie looks just like his cousin Lane, who looks just like his grandpa and great-grandpa, don't you think?

Then again, maybe it's just the bald head...

it's not for free

The last thing Troy said to the group of us assembled to bid them farewell at the airport was the traditional benediction - Numbers 6:24-26. And then he asked for prayer - because it's not for free that they answer God's call on their life. Satan won't just stand by and let them impact a Muslim country.

I don't know how far in advance Troy prepared those words, but I think they're perfect. I can't even imagine better words.

I want to write them down here, so I remember them and so that maybe they bless you in some way and so that you can maybe say a prayer for my sister & brother (I'm so over the "in-law" crap) as they begin this incredible journey.

The phrase "it's not for free" has been echoing in the caverns of my brain ever since. I have a lot of thoughts on this. The most coherent one is this: what's the cost? I have to believe God expects more out of me than just accepting the fact that he called my family to live on the other side of the globe. So what does he expect? What decisions do I make each and every single day that accept his call or deny it? How long can I live life assuming my faith is free? What opportunities to sacrifice have I ignored?

It's not for free...

Pictures

You can see pictures of the rest of the family in San Diego here.