What Is the Restored Family Portrait?
Growing up as a child, a favorite hobby of mine was putting together puzzles. What I found comforting about the activity knew that after I had exerted maximum effort in fitting all the pieces together, I could rest in the satisfaction that my picture would be complete.
But life is nowhere like that, as I would come to see in later years. With every major change in my life – whether it was a new school, relationship or home – though I physically had moved on, pieces of me were always left behind. When my parents divorced in 2006, I lost an even greater part of myself; my identity and everything I had ever come to know.
My parents' divorce happened at a tumultuous time in my life. I was in my last year of high school, and struggling emotionally and academically. With the split of the two people I had loved dear, in addition to the closure of some friendships, it seemed as if brokenness was a running theme in my life. The more prevalent it became, the more I desperately longed to fill in the gaps of my incomplete life portrait.
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Although we were a pretty small family – it was just me, my parents and my, then 12-year-old, sister – in my eyes, we were the wholesome Huxtable family straight from the set of "The Cosby Show." No, we weren't perfect (after all, we had our challenges like any other family), but ultimately, I still had the highest regard for every member.
Divorce can do some pretty scary things to a family. And for the kid looking up, the view can at times be rather daunting. Half of American children will witness the breakup of a parent's marriage in our world today. Yet, despite the trauma this may unleash on unsuspecting children, we can't dismiss the possibilities this could open up for us as believers to communicate God's restorative love and everything this can come to mean for these tender ones.
In such cases, if we look hard enough, we may see a different yet no less beautiful family portrait, one filled with stepmothers, grandmothers, aunts and individuals outside of blood family (teachers, mentors and church leaders) who assume the caretaker role, in the absence of the second parent. In my own example, I have two homes and two mothers (my dad has since remarried, and the home I now live in with my mother has grown to include family members whom I am not related to by blood.)
When we can recognize the true value of connection that expands beyond just those within our immediate family circle, we tap into something greater than ourselves. Truth be told, we only ever have a chance to witness this on a deeper level, in the aftermath of great loss.
This is a lesson that Christ sought to teach us, when He proclaimed these words in Matthew 12, after being told that his mother and brothers were waiting to talk with him: "Who is my mother and who are my brethren?...For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister and mother" (verses 48,50). It is the kind of community where members seek each other's uttermost well-being, beyond their own needs and interests: This is family.
Though hardest to see in North-American countries (our busy, work-consumed cultures tend to drive out the interdependence that true community calls for), it is still entirely possible because of Christ's example.
Just the other day, I was looking at photos in one of my family albums. I was young in the photos, probably about five. I am garbed in dresses with vivid colors and hair clips to match. The brightness in my apparel accompanies child-like features, which dazzle with glee. In one of the photos, I am literally looking up – my body turned sideways to face him – as he stares directly at the camera. This simple display of mine as a child, suggested an inherent awe and respect for my father.
The longer my adult self stared at the photo, the more it dawned on me that the little girl in the photo would have thought the world I am in now, to be some ulterior universe. She wouldn't for a moment ever fathom the idea of a world where her parents live apart from each other.
Amid the missing pieces of my incomplete life portrait, it had become easy to zone in on the brokenness that had appeared most prevalent. Yet, as my own portrait continues to evolve, I have come to realize that we can miss out on so much, when we focus on all of the conundrum, the awkwardness and the shattered remains. If we are open to a greater alternative, we can behold the bigger and complete portrait that God has already perfectly pieced together for our lives. We just have to open our eyes and our hearts a little wider to see it.
