This Is Family
Here in BC we just celebrated Family Day. I thought it fitting that this year it lined up perfectly with both Valentine’s Day and Lunar New Year. The whole weekend was a special one of simple celebrations. Good homemade food, cards given and received, affection showed, gratitude expressed... and lots of naps. We spent the weekend with the same people we have spent every weekend with for the last year.
I decided to look at what I wrote about on Family Day last year. It brought tears of gratitude to my eyes as I remembered vividly this special moment I shared with my daughter. And as I look over what has transpired since I see evidence not only of how God has carried our burdens and brought comfort and peace when we felt confusion and anxiety, but also how we’ve been given opportunity to demonstrate that to one another in greater ways this year.
We start the day at 8:30 am. I’m still in bed finishing nursing Eleanor who is nearing her 1st birhtday. Suddenly it's time to go! I have exactly 2 minutes to get dressed and throw a hat on my bed head. 5 minutes to wrangle Eleanor out of pajamas, into a clean diaper and clothes. Grab all the eseentials. Snacks for the girls. Jackets. Carrier. Shoes. Load into the car. And we're off.
A quick stop at the golden arches to load up on breakfast and hot coffee.
Then it is off to the mountains and the forest. It's February, but the sun is shining and it's been warmer these days. We're there by 9:30 as pre-arranged with old high school friends to try to beat the rush of other hikers. And it's cold. The crisp morning air lingers as the sun has trouble breaking through the tree cover. The slight wind picks up mist from the glacier fed river and blows it past our faces. The further we walk the slowly rising elevation, the more snow covers the ground. The slush from past days of hikers has frozen into bumpy ice chunks.
Dawson is thrilled to run and play and explore and say hi to all the other dogs.
Eleanor is content, bundled up in her winter suit that makes her look like a grey fox. Strapped to daddy in the carrier and looking out, she has the sweetest deal.
Bob is happy, chatting with friends about work and cars and study and...
But Elizabeth. Elizabeth is cold. She tried riding her bike (she’s done it before on this trail), but it left her hands exposed. And they are now numb. Instead of boots, she wore shoes. And then walked through a puddle. So her feet are cold. She's been a trooper, but it's a long way to walk. Her legs have to work in double time to keep up with us. It's slippery and rocky, and even for my energizer bunny of a girl, it’s hard work.
It doesn't take long before I hear a lot of "Momma, I'm so cold. Momma, I want to go home. Momma, I'm tired. Momma, can I have a snack?" I try to distract her. SIng a few songs. Ask her a few questions. Walk at her pace. Hold her hand and pull it up into my sleeve. We reach the halfway mark and my gut says this is it.
She can't go any further. I send Bob on with Dawson, Eleanor, and our friends. Elizabeth and I turn around and begin the slow walk back towards the car. I encourage her with the promise of a warm cuddle with a blanket if we find a dry bench. We talk about how she is brave and strong and I'm proud of her. I talk of silly things like feeding her ice cream and making her colder. She giggles. Then she cries. Giggles and tears. Giggles and tears. I carry her. Cold hands tightly clasped around my neck. Legs around my waist. Tear stained cold cheeks resting against my own cold cheeks. We sing her cuddle song: This Little Light of Mine. It was the first song I ever sang to her. We sing others songs like My God Is So Big and He's Got the Whole World. My arms grow increasingly tired. I dig deep. Keep going. Keep going. She needs me more than anything else right now. I try to warm her hands by rubbing them. I rub her feet. It's not long before I have to carry her again. Backpack on the back with helmet attached to it. Toddler on the front while also carrying the bicycle. I smile at everyone passing us. I may be carrying a crying toddler through a beautiful forest, and yes, it would be nicer if it wasn't so cold and she wasn't grumpy. BUT what a privilege that I get to carry this child God has entrusted to me. I get to be a source of comfort. I get to carry her burdens.
We found that bench. It was dry, protected by a covering. And in direct sunlight. It was like God parted the clouds for the 10 minutes we sat there, her legs and feet wrapped in a blanket, eating a cracker, sitting on my lap,
The others eventually joined us. Elizabeth had a burst of energy to ride her bike back to the car. And as we drove home, girls wrapped in blankets, heat on, the eyes tired from tears closed into deep slumber.
As I write, the girls play quietly. Bob is vacuuming my car. We'll get groceries later. Get the house in order for the week to come. This is family. Not only do we get to care for one another’s practical needs and carry each other’s burdens, we also get to reflect God’s love and comfort and goodness to one another. We have the opportunity to grow together and love together and be together.
It's family day, and I can't think of a more perfect way to spend family day.
A photo from that day as we walked back. Not pictured: the backpack, helmet, or strider bike I was also carrying.
This is winter in British Columbia. (Also taken on our walk that day)