Once a year, usually around the end of summer, my Uncle Leroy and Aunt Nell come up from Alabama to attend his high school reunion. A few years ago, two of my sisters and I made a point of getting our families together while they were here to spend time together. At first it was a pleasant, fun thing to do. After a year or two though, it became something that I looked forward to. Something that I really enjoyed.
My Uncle Leroy is a dear, sweet, kind man. Even though he was born and raised in Pennsylvania, he's lived down south since his college years and has acquired a soft, southern drawl. His wife, if possible, is even sweeter than he. When they come to visit they are always so full of kind, encouraging words for each of us. I don't know if you'll understand this, but being around them feels like being home to me. That safe place where you are always loved and are free to be yourself.
You need to understand that I didn't experience that kind of a safe home growing up. My own father, Uncle Leroy's brother, is about as opposite of him as you can get. I lived with a lot of fear, anger and harsh judgment. I never felt relaxed or safe. Always on guard. Always trying to gain approval. Never feeling that unconditional love my heart longed for.
Over the past several years, Uncle Leroy and Aunt Nell have become so special to me. They have shown me the love and acceptance that I've always wanted from my own parents, but rarely received. More than once I have held back tears as I've wondered why I couldn't have been born to parents like this. More than once I've wondered why my parents couldn't see in me what these sweet, kind people see. Someone to be proud of. Someone to love.
This past Thanksgiving, I received a call from my sister, Kathi. I could tell she was upset. She had received a call from Alabama telling her that Uncle Leroy had a stroke. They found him in his garden outside, alone. It had been a bad one (not that any are good) it had incapacitated him in many ways. He can walk and eat, but he is no longer able to talk or reason like an adult. His mental capacity is like a 3 year old. He was in rehab for many weeks. At the same time, Aunt Nell had also been in the hospital for a serious medical condition that almost took her life. They were both sick and needed each other, but they were apart and unable to help themselves or each other. It was hard thinking about them through the holidays - knowing that this was not even close to an ideal holiday time for them.
I just talked to my sister, Kathi, a few days ago. She said that Aunt Nell had to make a decision to either put Uncle Leroy in a nursing home or bring him back to their home. She decided to bring him back home with her. She is not bitter, angry or upset. In fact she told my sister that she had so much to be thankful for - all the years that they shared together, all their wonderful memories. I am amazed by her perspective and how she continues to be loving and grateful, even in the middle of a very hard time.
I am so thankful that for the past few years I was able to get to know my Uncle Leroy and Aunt Nell. I know that they have helped me to heal from some of the wounds of my past. I know that God brought them into my life to speak words of love and encouragement to my hurting heart. I understand that they have filled in some of the 'pieces of my puzzle.' I pray for them at night when I put my girls to bed and I wish I could be close by to help them.
As I think about them tonight, I feel privileged to be related to two such wonderful people. I feel a responsibility to carry on their legacy of kindness and love to those God entrusts to me. I pray that I am able to speak into other's lives some of what Uncle Leroy and Aunt Nell have spoken into mine.
"I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers."
Ephesians 1:16
