Sticks in a bundle

are unbreakable.

–Kenyan proverb

Never could I have imagined experiencing serenity any sweeter than what I discovered the summer of 1973 when my family toured the Pacific Northwest.

It was a camping trip and the adventure included my parents and brother, great uncle Loren, the elder statesman, his younger brother Charlie, and my grandmother—their baby sister.

It is a sweet gift to think back on their weathered, lined faces smiling back at me. It is still sweeter to recall the interactions that included story telling, humor, and the simple joy that comes from being outside and eating pancakes at a picnic table so moist your bottom becomes damp unless you sit on a towel.

It was a memorable vacation. One afternoon Uncle Charlie ran into a woman who had written him a Dear John letter 50 years before when he received the call to enter the Army and defend his country during World War II. Another day we watched bears stride through our campsite. We also learned to appreciate wildflowers because Grandmother adored looking at them. We ate crab. We looked for mushrooms.

Beyond the adventure, God was molding my understanding of family life. He began teaching me about its irreplaceable value, for He knew there would come a day when I would need to reinvent my concept of family to weather the storms of life. He also knew I would grow up, marry, create a family of my own, and regroup. I would live into the Age of Technology when growing numbers of us would think nothing of moving away from our places of birth. Or hooking up with someone over the Internet. Or choosing to believe that marriage vows can be broken with social acceptance because it can be unimaginably difficult to manage prolonged problems, challenging personalities, life rhythms and agendas that defy your own.

Decades later the majority of my family members who camped along the rugged coastlines of Washington and Oregon are gone, but the beauty of family, clan, network and tribe lives in me. It wasn’t until I moved here to Oak Harbor, far from my childhood home and its comfortable structure, that I would fully understand the concept of family building.

I learned that you can heal from childhood heartbreaks by recreating life the way you want it to be in adulthood.

I learned that when you need someone to hold you accountable outside your family, you build a committed relationship with a friend.

I learned that it is both a necessity and privilege to provide stability, commitment and love to children who are not your own.

I learned that you complicate your life with others outside your specific family membership. That way, when your heart is breaking with disappointment and injustice and worry, you put out a call and they will draw near, to love and listen to you.

I learned that when you begin a new job, you join the lunch crowd because one day they will be your work family.

We all need each other.