You look like family

It has been 15 years since we last gathered.  That time, it was Michigan; this time, my parent's house.  In Michigan, many of us weren't married and even fewer of us had children -- the next generation.  This time, there were close to 70 of us, the younger generation picking up where the elders have gone home.

 

My Grandpa Stutzman (Bob) had 9 brothers and sisters.  Ten of them in all.  George {as he is still affectionately called} went to heaven in 1998 and I still ache for him.

 

This weekend, George's one remaining brother (Uncle Royce) was here for the reunion and his sister (Aunt Rosie) "joined" us by Facetime on Saturday, having just had surgery.  What a blast it was connecting with family nearby (Michigan) and far away (Florida/California).  Uncle Royce reminds me of my George in many ways and it blesses me to pieces to be with him, soaking up those Stutzman roots.

 

It was late Saturday afternoon when I turned to my brother Joel and said, "I think it's so cool to look around this {ginormous} family and see certain facial features that come through so strongly.  I mean, there really is a Stutzman look."

 

Even as the words came out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back.  Right there... confronted with a reality that I "know" but had never "known."
 

My brother was adopted and across race lines.  There is zero chance of him or his babies looking anything like the Stutzmans, outside of mannerisms and behaviors which we share.  And the same goes for my babies.

 

Of course, this is not new information.  I have heard adult adoptees speak for years about how difficult it is took look around crowds for a face that look likes yours, always scanning and searching to see the familiarity we all enjoy in the faces of our beloved generations.  I never fully knew or appreciated that until this weekend.  Until there were my babies.

 

As I looked around my parent's yard, I saw an abundance of beautiful faces and I knew this was my home.  But it's also my children's home.  Because of the awesome decision my parent's made forty years ago, the Stutzman line will now and forever after include people with beautiful brown skin.
That's a beautiful thing.

 

But in the meantime, it's time for my babies and me to have a family meeting to talk about what really binds us together as family.  Not our eyes or our face shape or our height or the color of our skin.  No, it's love. 
Blessed be the tie that binds.