We said goodbye to Chris’ parents on Monday after three glorious weeks together.
We made memories with lazy mornings, picnic dinners, beach
strolls, Uno tournaments and walks around the neighborhood. We played the
thankful game in the car, shared highs and lows at dinner, and did that multigenerational
thing families do when the adults start addressing each other by the titles
their children use.
 |
| GoGo Sherry and Babakahle. Formerly known as Sherry and Gary or Mom and Dad. (Their grandparent names came from Lifa’s first language. Babakahle is pronounced “ba-ba-ga-shlay”. Sort of.) |
They came with bags stuffed with multiplication tricks,
running shoes, chili powder and a new motor for my Nutri-Ninja. (220-volt
electrical surges are not ideal for kitchen appliances.) Whether you need to
know what 9x8 is, want to go on a run, or have a hankering for a taco and a
smoothie, the Ladd Family is equipped!
They spoiled our puppies, cleaned the kitchen every night, and
sent Chris and I out on our first date nights in Cape Town while Lifa basked in
the undivided attention of his grandparents.
There is such power in three generations gathering around
the dinner table. We shared the stories that shaped us and narrated new ones.
We watched Lifa take developmental leaps with giggles abounding. His personality sprouted and bloomed in the
presence of our family’s root system.
He became himself at
the table with the people he belonged to.
In case you’re new here, Lifa’s story is written as a
battlefield to be won. He has lived a tumultuous and heroic nine years. I made
a covenant with God in 2010 to be Lifa’s family, consequently releasing my
plans to go back to America. I had no recognized authority or ability to protect
him, and nothing was promised. It was complicated to say the least. I knew I couldn’t
expect anyone else to make the same sacrifice I was called to.
I ripped the desires
of my heart away from my identity with white-knuckled tears. I surrendered
my fairy tale wishes for a handsome husband, a household led by a dad, cousins
spending summers playing together, growing up with grandparents, holiday
traditions, normal family stuff.
I trusted God to
rewrite my hopes and dreams as I put my hope in His family.
Then a handsome man came and sat on our couch with his own
set of white knuckles (and mostly chewed off fingernails). He had also released
his hopes and dreams to be re-authored. In the middle of my messy kitchen and
Lifa running wild in Toy Story underwear, Chris Ladd let go of what he thought
this would look like. He had come to be
the dad in our family.
And then the
grandparents came.
Remarkably, they didn’t come to meet Lifa; they came to love their grandson in person. They have loved him from the very beginning.
They didn’t have to
be Lifa’s grandparents.
They didn’t have to
choose him just because we did.
They didn’t have to leave surprises in his bedroom or buy him a new bicycle.
Everything changes when we encounter the kind of love that shows
up when they don’t have to… The kind of family that spent half a lifetime
washing your dishes and hugging you goodnight, and then comes around the world
to do it again- and to tell you to go on a date with your wife.
Everything changes around the table together, choosing each
other when we don’t have to. We become fully ourselves in the presence of shared
stories and irrational love.
It doesn’t take a marriage, a mission trip, or moving to
Africa for everything to change or to change everything for someone. This isn’t
Lifa’s story or the Ladd Family story. It’s a story of white knuckles and
family love. White knuckles were nailed
to a cross so that we could all qualify for the kind of family that chooses,
sacrifices, and makes you bloom.
Bring your white knuckles and show up when you don’t have
to. It won’t be what you expected, but it’ll be better than you could dream on
your own.
Thank you for coming
Babakahle and GoGo Sherry. We can’t wait to have you back!
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