Migration

I'm getting ready to take my kids to Michigan for a week with my family. Although my family has been vacationing in the same spot since before I can remember -- I took my first steps at the cottage where most of my family will be staying -- I haven't been back for the last six years.

You see, along with beautiful beaches, campfires, swimming and building sand castles with cousins, came some of the worst family fights I can remember. And the last year we went -- the last year I was married -- was especially difficult because instead of being supports for each other, my husband and I were fighting too. After that, I've made the decision to either not go or to go to a different place in Michigan with my friend's family instead.

Over the years, my kids have asked to go and felt sad when their cousins talked about it, but I knew I just didn't have it in me to go without a partner. Until now. Now I know that even without a physical person by my side (other than my kids whom I don't want to rely on to support me), I am supported. So many in my tribe -- not my family of origin or extended family but my tribe -- are sending me love and strength for this coming week.

I picked this song to mark this pre-departure day for three reasons:

1) It is about going back to the same spot
2) It's about birds which are highly symbolic for me
3) It's about a transcendent love -- a love that knows no fear -- a love that always knows which way to go:

My love will sail this ship
through great storms and ice floes.
He is not afraid as I am,
he is not afraid.

And this is why he knows the way.
And this is why he knows the way.
He knows the way.

The old me would've been bothered by the fact that the transcendent love in these lyrics is referred to as "he." Now I just accept that some people choose to call that love God -- and see him as male. I don't share this view, but it's ok if our forces for good look different -- they serve the same purpose:

Oh my brothers and sisters, he is so kind,
despite the losses that have made us this sad.
Five blocks of sidewalk chalk he steers us clear of,
blue ice skaters and animals.

And this is why he knows the way.
And this is why he knows the way.
He knows the way.

All the birds of this neighborhood are leaving.
Some days we feel left behind.

This year, my kids and I won't be left behind as my family once again returns, for the 43rd year, to the same spot on Lake Michigan. We will be staying about 3/4 mile away from the rest of the family, in our own little space. A refuge.

Part of me is happy we'll be joining the rest of the family this year. Part of me is bracing for what may come. My hope is that by showing up and staying fully conscious, I can let go just a little bit more of what I may have needed to brace myself for in the past. Because this time, I'm not a helpless child in the middle of an ugly, drunken family feud with nowhere else to go. I am a grown woman with tremendous strength and support. I have a car, and I decide whether we stay or go if things get ugly. And having that knowledge makes all the difference...