Saturday- Part 3

My heart was full by the time we left the cemetery, but it turns out there was even more goodness to come.

After the burial ceremony we went back to my Great-Aunt’s house where we had started. There was a bit of mingling, but it was clear that there was more to come because there was quite the set-up with a large tent, chairs, a lectern, a sound system, and a beautiful display of all of our deceased ancestors. For as much as I wondered what they looked like throughout all my life, there they were and it was quite a thing to take in!

By this time, Miriam had put in her time with complying with all the adult things happening around her, so at the first sighting of kids she was like a fly to a bug light. We had brought along a couple craft kits for her to do, and she used those to lure other kids into playing with her. Within minutes she was engaged in full-out play with who we assume to be her distant cousins. She played HARD for the rest of the night — she never did share with us whether or not any of the other kids spoke English, but language didn’t seem to be a barrier in anything they did together!

After a bit of mingling it was time for worship — a local faith leader had come to lead a memorial service honoring my grandmother. Once again I was struck by the beauty of being able to sing hymns together in our respective languages. Together we prayed, heard scripture, heard proclamation, and we sang Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, How Great Thou Art, and God of Grace and God of Glory. For the non-churchy people reading this blog, those are like classic, beloved, and well-known hymns.

Side-note: I was pretty proud of my husband because when I couldn’t pinpoint the title of God of Grace & God of Glory to pull up the English lyrics even though I KNEW the tune, he was able to come up with it.

I’ve probably already said this a million time before, but I’m going to say it again: to get to worship with our long-lost family after a lifetime of wondering about them is literally one of the most powerful, life-changing things I have ever experienced, and once again during this time I was moved to tears despite not knowing what was being said.

After worship it was time to eat, and WOWZA did we FEAST! As I write this I am currently in my final days in Thailand before going to Malaysia, and this meal is sticking out to me as my favorite meal of the trip. The menu included: fried chicken, rice, a vegetable stir fry, fresh oranges, an INCREDIBLE soup, and hung lay (Adam’s favorite food of this trip), which is a Northern Thai pork curry dish. A family friend also made us some beautiful desserts to enjoy after we had eaten. So much time and attention was put into planning this celebration, and it showed — I felt so grateful for those who had planned and those who were cooking, washing dishes, and making sure everyone was fed.

Once we finally got ourselves to stop eating (I had to intentionally cut myself off or I would have kept going), we were told they needed some time to clean up and get the space reset to a new configuration. At this point we took a walk with my Naa Little and my cousins to just see what we could see. In my immediate family we have a tradition of taking jumping photos when we are all together — we shared this tradition with my cousins and I think we got some really fun shots. Also, the rest of my immediate family are into “big head” photos, which was another fun thing to share with our cousins.

Ya’ll…the Thai countryside in Phrao is absolutely serene and stunning. We got to walk during golden hour, and to see the fields and the cows and the mountains…it was all so perfect.

By the time we got back to the party, the tables and chairs were mostly cleared out aside from a big oval of chairs. Most people had left by this point, and it was shared that there would be some family time. So my immediate family, my aunts, my uncles, my cousins, my great aunts and uncles…we all had a seat in this oval of chairs. It was at this point that things started to sink in for me — I was seated amongst 3 generations of our family.

Our time together was facilitated by one of the pastors of the family — it turns out there’s currently 5 of us! When he started to read Psalm 133, I found my eyes leaking once again for the day. The thing about Psalm 133 for me is that it tends to show up at moments in my life when I’m beginning something new that leads to an overwhelming sense of belonging. I can’t explain it, but this Psalm has shown up and been read at some points in my life that I now look back on as critical moments in my life and faith. So to hear THAT Psalm at THAT moment felt just like another whack to the face with the holy 2x4 that God uses to remind me when the spirit is dwelling among us.

What ensued after that was…well…I think a highlight of my life. The microphone was opened up for people to share what brought them to this circle and how they were connected to our family. What resulted was the sharing of an oral history of our family. Through the stories that were shared I felt like I got to know a bit about my bio-grandparents. We got to receive the history and the account of my mom’s adoption as told by her Aunt who was there. We learned that my mom had spent some time as a baby in the house we were at. We learned that the 1960s were a REALLY hard time for the people of Phrao, the economy was in rough shape, people were out of work, and there was a lot of despair. We learned that the adoption happened as an act of love— that my bio-grandmother didn’t want to do it, but did it so her baby would have opportunity in America. Parts of the story we already knew because my Nan told us these things as we were growing up, some of the things we didn’t know.

But the thing that sunk in for me was…that we were wanted. Even though my Nan had always told us how tear-filled of a day it was when they got my mom, and how it was hard for my bio-grandma, there was always a narrative within me that said that the adoption happened because my mom wasn’t wanted, and as a result we, her children, were not wanted by the rest of the family. Up until ten months ago, that was the narrative that was deep within me. It took me 35 years to come to terms with that narrative and be okay with it and all the mystery behind our family, but then ten months ago (I was just 2 weeks shy of turning 39) that narrative (and honestly, a good chunk of my understanding of who I was) was crushed to bits. Because it turns out this family — OUR family — was longing to know us just as much as we were longing to know them. When all of that new info came in 10 months ago, there was a pretty rapid deconstruction of who I thought I was and truly I was not okay — this trip has definitely been a time of reconstructing my understanding of myself, where I come from, and who I come from.

As our time was wrapping up my immediate family and I got an opportunity to share some words. I talked about how meaningful the time together had been, and how out of ALL the families in the world we could have come from, we come from a family that is so deeply rooted in Christ-centered faith. As a Christian of the Lutheran flavor, I believe our identities are always rooted in Christ and that baptism is what binds us together to make up the community of Christ. On the days when I’m not having major doubts about this whole God thing (and there’s more than I should probably publicly admit), I trust that no matter who I am or how I show up for things in my life, I first and foremost belong to God. But to know that I not only belong to God, but a family who also gets their source of identity from God…wooooof. There’s some power there.

Beyond that — to know how God has been working within our family and utilizing us as preachers and teachers of the Gospel, equipping 5 living pastors out of all of us? Ya’ll…I don’t even have words to describe that. Like…what even is going on there??? What’s even more wild is that my Grandpa Ray who I grew up knowing — he was a pastor. Then my deceased bio-grandfather who I didn’t know — he was a pastor. If I didn’t know better, I’d think there’s a genetic component to being called to the ministry of proclamation! All I can say is that it all adds to the new sense of belonging that’s formed within me,

The 5 pastors of the family

One would think that surely by THIS point in the day, things would slow down a bit. But no…after the family time finished and the big family photo was taken, the photos my mom had brought with her came out. There was story sharing, there was laughter, there were tears. There was also grilled squid and fish…and it was amazing. If you know me you know I’m a HUGE fan of the 9:00pm pizza at any social gathering — the night-time squid was absolute perfection.

As we started to say our goodbyes for the night, a kind of funny story came out. My great-aunts shared with my mom that it was a Thai custom that when a baby is born, they take a piece of the umbilical cord and bury it either where the baby is born or where the baby lived when they were born (I didn’t catch which). In either case, my aunts explained that part of my mom’s umbilical cord was buried somewhere on the property we were on. It’s like a piece of her has been there the entire time!

Needless to say, other than the 5 year old chatting on the drive home, the rest of us were pretty silent. It had been A DAY and we were all ready to curl up in a corner with our phones and not talk to anyone for the next century…so we all just went to bed when we got back.

And this, my friends — after 3 blog posts— concludes the story of Saturday, January 4th. The day that felt like a few years.