orphan

Last week Keller and I were invited for dinner with his boss, her husband, their two young children, her parents, and her brother. Meals lately are usually just Keller and me since we don’t know many people here, and even if we did, we have neither the funds to go out nor a place to host a dinner. Being there was a joy; the meal was delicious, but it was the conversation and the people, the crowded noisiness, the background babble banter of young boys — it comforted and welcomed me in a deep part of my soul, a place I often recognize as satiated during these rare big-family moments.

The desire is more than just the last few weeks; this isn’t really about meals being only the two of us. Even when my small family of four all slept in one house, we didn’t really live there together. Most evenings my sister’s swim practices or social schedule interfered, and if it wasn’t her activities, it was my violin stuff*. Family dinners didn’t even compete as a priority.

The Old Testament talks frequently about taking care of orphans, widows, and foreigners, and Jesus puts much emphasis on doing so. So I keep my eyes open for people who may fit in these categories, not only literally, but all the ways in which people are abandoned, lonely, or unwelcome. What I hadn’t realized was that doing so kept the focus on the other, never addressing the ways in which I am orphaned, widowed, foreign.

Minutes after saying goodbye to the boss’s three generations of biological and adopted family, Keller and I got in the car, and for most of the drive back home I couldn’t stop talking about the warmth and noise. I deeply cherish times spent in these multi-generational households and meals; the most recent I can remember was last year’s Thanksgiving spent with our mentor’s children, spouses, and grandchildren. The excited comfort is more than just good food and new people, the joy in these moments points to the desire of an orphan. With busy and social parents, and an even-more social sister, my immediate family wasn’t enough to fill our house. My parents are still married, my sister is alive and well, and yet in some ways I am very much an orphan, and am just now beginning to understand this.

 

 

*Violin stuff is the umbrella term I use that includes: symphony orchestra, chamber orchestra, church orchestra, musical pit orchestra, private lessons, teaching younger students, quintets, quartets, duets, and – oh yeah – personal practice time for all of those. I include this only because it was actually more time-consuming than ‘violin’ alone sounds.