I have two mothers. Susan Miller, my birth mother, is
amazing. Her kindness...softness....pure heart...and strong spirit was a safe
haven for my self growing up in that small, Southern town that I sometimes felt
strangled within. She is and will always be my mother, birthing me, raising me,
teaching me right from wrong, loving her "Angel Beth" with open arms
and intense optimism about my destiny....despite all the (ah, adventures) I've
put her through over the years.
And then there is ma mere. Dr. Karen Swallow Prior. Ma Mere
means "my mother" in French, and this name, it is..well,...
"C'est Vrais." Ma Mere,
no more special than my own mother, yet unique and profoundly precious to
me....because she chose me...and I chose her. Ma mere was my Freshman English
professor in college. She reached out....all the way to the very, very...very
back of her crowded classroom...and saw me. Not the tiny, timid woman-child tucked away, trying
desperately to melt into the floor...no. She saw Me. And she chose me. Her
jeune fille. And from that moment on, my life changed.
Ma mere has written a book. A BOOK. Damn, I am proud of her.
This book is beautiful, and shares truth. She sent me a copy in the mail...and
I have curled up with it, keeping it close, hiding its words away in my heart,
and simply soaking every inch of it in that I can. She is there, dancing on
every page...a joyful jig, a saucy samba, a fiery and unafraid foxtrot.....a
waltz, willing me to wonder---to walk--and to run (and work) towards what I want. A resurrection
rumba....calling me back with a whisper of welcome.
Welcome, home.
These days I have been surrounded by the concept of home and
family...can't seem to get it out of my head in fact. I am learning that there
are numerous facets to the onion-layered ideal that is "Family".
Most see this as those who share blood relations, with the same roof over their
heads. Yes. I agree with this as a concrete definition. Here in Hawaii, we have
"Ohana," which (I looked it up) extends past mere genetics:
Part
of Hawaiian culture, ohana means
family in an extended sense of the term,
including blood-related, adoptive or intentional. It emphasizes that families
are bound together and members must cooperate and remember one
another.
Adoptive.
Intentional.
Chosen.
To be chosen...embraced...and wanted. These are priceless
things.
I think of ma mere...and how she chose me, among thousands
of students that have passed through her halls. I am her only jeune fille...and my heart swells in the
privilege, honor and beauty of that priceless gift.
I think of my God...and how He chose me, seeing everything.
And yet still calls me His delight.
To be chosen, to be loved.
This is home.
This is family.
