One reason I love the Amish so much…

I sit here and I’m trying so very hard not to feel sorry for myself but I’m failing miserably.

My mother married a man who was 17 years older than her – after her mother died, her father remarried, and she felt completely alone in the world. That man had two teenage sons from another marriage.

I’m not going to go into all the gory details but suffice to say that, while I was still a baby, my two older brothers chose to live with other relatives – far… far… far… away from us.

I have visited with them a handful of times (mostly after my parents divorced) but I never had the feeling of them being older brothers. They always felt more like uncles or cousins.

Distance was not the only issue either, there was a million miles worth of difference in lifestyle and beliefs too…

Meanwhile, the woman my grandfather remarried, also had two sons from a previous marriage and they were teens at that time too. They got to grow up with my grandfather and my mother was essentially a pariah for a number of years because she dared to divorce so I barely knew my grandparents (or my grandfather anyway).

Is it any wonder I went looking for love in all the wrong places too…

 

The irony of it all is that now, we are most certainly the most vocal and visible in our beliefs – of the entire family. And once again, we are pariahs.

On my father’s side of the family, I have been treated well… not nice by quite a few relatives because I thought keeping my babies was the better choice.

On my mother’s side, I have been the target of blame and the scathing looks of people who are disappointed that I choose not to “get a real job” and put my children in school… “where they belong”.

Now my nephew, who I have not seen in years, who would most likely not have even recognized me had I went to visit while he was sick, who I still see in my head as a toddler or a young boy running around the back yard – has passed on.

He is safe, whole, out of pain, and beyond the frail humanity that is most likely the reason for my own feelings. He is there at Jesus’ feet and I can only hope that he’s thinking…  “Don’t worry Rachel, one day you’ll join me here and we’ll have all eternity to catch up.”

Until then -I sit here, listening to the wonderful sounds of my sweet children as they play, and trying not to feel sorry for myself.

OK… that’s it for my little sob story. For now anyway…

 

© Rachel L. Miller 2014

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