Ponderings

My family of origin is shifting between gears. Sometimes I think we need a new clutch.

I have three brothers. One is the over achiever, one the talented under achiever, and one the black sheep. (I’ll leave it to them to tell you who is who.) Although I love each one dearly, my relationships with them have ebbed and flowed rather irrationally.

My primary role as the sister is to emote. I come from a family of little experience and thereby a low threshold for emotional displays. Gender roles designated that I would display the emotions appropriate to the occasion. “You’re so emotional!” was the response, but in a strange way it validated my role.

But in midlife with my brothers scattered across the Midwest, I am at a loss to play my traditional role and I haven’t yet found a new one. One brother is bravely navigating a hideously painful divorce, another struggling with a spouse’s potentially crippling diagnosis, and the third – thankfully! – is in a holding pattern. (He’s the baby – not yet 40. His day will soon come!) As I witness the ground shifting beneath us, I wish desparately to know my connection.

So when one of my brothers called today to share the latest chapter of the saga called life, I was deeply touched. I still don’t know my role. I can no longer be the designated emoter; I’m too far away, too removed, and simply too old for the childish games. And in this strange new land of transitions I’m not sure where a sister fits. I know only that I cherish him – each of the hims - and honor his journey and delight to know that I am included even without my assigned emotive cloak. And for today, in this autumn of life, it is enough.

These relationships born of chance not choice are backdrop with which we see the myriad of relationships in our lives. Imperfect, halting, fragile, broken even and yet enduring. Inescapable. The clutch may be worn, but it rises to the occasion and we shift into a new gear. Grace.