One In God's Family

by Christina Weigand
(Puyallup Washington USA)

During the last several weeks our home has had a parade of guests come through the front door of our new home. After the last of them left, I felt an uncomfortable longing. I wanted to be close to my grown children again. I wanted to spend more time with my parents. It wasn’t home-sickness so much, as I feel very at home in this new state. Instead it was family sickness, I longed to have my family within driving distance, to hop in my car and go shopping with my daughter, to have lunch with my mom. The phone and e-mail can’t replace this. However did I come to this point?

Several months ago my husband and I, along with my then six year old daughter, made the decision, with God’s guidance, to move from Pennsylvania to the state of Washington. You may be saying, “So what, people do that all the time.” The difference here, and it may only be a small one, was both of us had lived there nearly the almost fifty years of our lives. Everything we had ever known and loved was on the east coast, with most of it in Pennsylvania. We were deciding to turn our lives upside down, to start all over again. Even at forty eight years old that is scary, but with God’s help we faced our fears and made the move.

All-in-all, once the decision was made, God saw that things went relatively smoothly. We found a school, church and house easily. My husband joined the church choir and theater group, while excitedly taking on his new job. My daughter, Ana, easily made her place in a new school and made friends with the neighbors. I spent my time unpacking, helping Ana adjust to school and got invited to write for the theater group’s program. The only dark spots were owning two houses and continued issues with our adult children still living on the east coast, but overall things were good and we felt blessed.

Homesickness still lingered though. On those days when I was home alone in the big new house were sometimes the worst. Not being able to spend time with my granddaughter gave me untold heartache. I turned to God and He made sure it wouldn’t last. Our new church family, from the choir, to the theater group and the priest filled the voids left by our move. When our furniture and household goods hadn’t arrived, a member of the choir loaned us a box full of kitchen accoutrements so we could cook and eat. Another member of the choir invited us to a picnic, so we could get to know her family. Our priest was welcoming with bear hugs for Ana and me.

The first Sunday we attended mass at our new church, Ana and I were asked to bring up the gifts for sharing in the Holy Eucharist and a few weeks ago I was asked to be a reader and proclaim the Word Of God, something I had not been able to do since Advent. My husband and I were enthusiastically welcomed in ASTRA, All Saints Theatrical Repertoire Association, the church theater group. They didn’t know us from Adam and yet so thankfully and warmly welcomed our truncated family into their midst.

We were once again ensconced in a family. It may not be our blood family, but instead the Family of God. Now we have two families, no. I take that back. We have one family, full of love and a welcoming spirit.

As I sit here and stare across the miles missing my kids, parents and siblings, God nudges me and says, “You are not alone, never alone. You are a member of my family and that’s all you need. Love, your Father in Heaven, God.