Sunday, January 22, 2012

You can go home again.

Whenever I go back to the small town in which I spent nine childhood years, my heart swells from the feeling of connection. When I visit, I attend the same church I did with my grandmother. Back then-- decades and decades ago, the church was filled with her sisters and cousins and their families, and dozens of friends. Now their descendants-- nieces, nephews, grand- and  great-grand, even greatgreatgrand descendants-- are in the choir and among the congregation.
When I sat in the church today, I reflected on how much I know about these people. I've known them all my life. I always visit and catch up on what's going on with this one or that one. All of us have had smooth and bumpy spots. Some tragedies, some victories.

Today I understood that the connections are more important than the details. People in small communities can fall from grace under the watchful eyes of neighbors, relatives, friends. They can bounce back, and fall in step, and learn firsthand that life is about forgiveness, support, renewal, and humanity.

Those of us who have moved away from such tightknit communities of connection can forget that mistakes and bad choices are notches on our timeline, but they don't define us for long..... UNLESS we punish ourselves in our minds over and over and over. Holding on to our unhappy memories and judging ourselves will hold us prisoner long after the world has forgotten and moved on with the business of living.

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