{"id":14389,"date":"2016-02-25T20:41:17","date_gmt":"2016-02-26T01:41:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katrinakenison.com\/?p=14389"},"modified":"2016-02-25T20:41:17","modified_gmt":"2016-02-26T01:41:17","slug":"the-family-we-choose","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/the-family-we-choose\/","title":{"rendered":"the family we choose"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"IMG_2949\"\u201cAn invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.\u201d<\/em><\/strong>
\n~ Chinese proverb<\/strong><\/p>\n

I<\/span> always wanted a daughter. Last year, I finally got one.<\/p>\n

She arrived not as a newborn into my arms, but into my heart instead, and fully grown. And yet the mysterious, compelling process of attachment has changed us both. Perhaps that\u2019s because as long as we\u2019re fully engaged in forging deeper relationships with others, we\u2019re also continuously being formed ourselves, sculpted and honed by the invisible hand of love.<\/p>\n

The first email from my daughter-to-be came a couple of years ago, through my website:<\/p>\n

Hello…. Today I watched the Ordinary Day video<\/a><\/strong> and found myself crying in my cube at work. I am not a mother (yet). I am a Connecticut native who became a transplant in Atlanta – working and dating with no long-lasting luck.<\/p>\n

Your video moved me because even though I am 32 years old, I have always longed for my parents, or perhaps more so my Mom, to share with me her feelings like you did. . . .Funny enough, I am much like you: Nostalgic, and with a plethora of stories of the five kids I grew up babysitting, and I long for those “ordinary days” even for myself!”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

L<\/span>auren wanted to order a book for herself and one to give to her cousin for Mother\u2019s Day. And, Lauren being Lauren, she wanted to make her gift special by having me inscribe it.<\/p>\n

That was the beginning \u2013 an innocuous exchange similar to hundreds of others I\u2019ve had over the years. But, Lauren being Lauren, she followed up her request for books with a thank you note. What\u2019s more, she told me she\u2019d now read The Gift of an Ordinary Day<\/a><\/strong> and sensed in me a kindred spirit, the kind of mother she herself aspired to be one day.<\/p>\n

Fast forward a few months, to early autumn 2013. My son Jack was moving to Atlanta to begin school in October and I was flying down with him, to rent a car and help him set up housekeeping in a new apartment. Lauren, now a regular reader of my blog, sent an email.<\/p>\n

The gist: I live about ten minutes from where Jack will be. I\u2019m sure you\u2019ll be busy, but if you have time for a cup of coffee, I\u2019d love to dash over to the campus and meet you two. And then, if Jack ever needs a ride to the airport, or tickets to a Hawks game, or a friend in Smyrna, he\u2019ll have someone to call.<\/p>\n

The three of us had that cup of coffee. We hit it off.\u00a0In fact, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to part on that bright October morning with hugs and promises to stay in touch. And we did. Jack and Lauren met for breakfast a few times and he took her up on her offer to drive him to the airport. We exchanged more letters. When she came home to Connecticut for Christmas, I invited her to New Hampshire for a visit.<\/p>\n

\"IMG_2950\"T<\/span>his is so not<\/em> the usual me. Introverted by nature, protective of my space, I don\u2019t enter into new relationships lightly or often. But from the beginning there was something different here — what Lauren called \u201ca wink\u201d — as if some larger forces were at work.<\/p>\n

And so it was that within minutes of arriving at our house for the first time, Lauren was up to her elbows in dough, making sausage balls with Henry for Christmas breakfast. When I flew to Georgia to visit Jack last February, she invited me to stay in her guest room. And \u00a0once again, the universe winked: what was meant to be a quick three-night stay turned into a whole week, as one snowstorm after another, all up and down the east coast, resulted in a series of canceled flights.<\/p>\n

Lauren loaned me a cozy bathrobe and a winter hat, brought me coffee in bed each morning and, on long walks through her neighborhood, shared with me the story of her life, from her parents\u2019 divorce when she was eleven through the ups and downs of her online dating career. I taught her how to make my salad dressing, introduced her to the short stories of Laurie Colwin, and to the grace our family says when we\u2019re all gathered at the table. We took Jack out for dinner one night and on another invited him over for a candlelit meal at her<\/em> table.<\/p>\n

We spent our time just the way I\u2019d have spent a lovely, uneventful week with my own flesh-and-blood daughter, if I had one. And moment by moment, as we walked and talked and listened, we got to know each other better. Stirring soup and making banana bread, watching Downton Abbey, browsing the neighborhood shops, reading side by side in silence or working quietly on our laptops, our easy, companionable togetherness slowly, imperceptibly turned into something more, something I can only describe as kinship.<\/p>\n

B<\/span>y the time I finally did get on a northbound plane, Lauren and I were a done deal: bound for life. And when I landed in New Hampshire, there was an email waiting for me:\u00a0\u201cI\u2019m completely charmed by your nurturing presence and big heart. I also think you would have been an ideal mother to a daughter, so I\u2019ll gladly and graciously be your girl, if you\u2019ll have me!”<\/em><\/p>\n

These days, I often refer \u2013 only half-jokingly — to \u201cmy three kids.\u201d In fact, those three young adults have grown close, forging their own sibling relationships with each other, just as Lauren and Steve have created an affectionate father-daughter bond. Without any urging from me, our family simply got bigger. And better.<\/p>\n

What I\u2019ve learned over the last year, as these unexpected, precious relationships have deepened, is that motherhood isn\u2019t just a matter of biology and blood. To mother another human being is to love that person wholeheartedly, both for who they are and also for who they could yet be. It\u2019s a willingness to be present, to bear witness to another\u2019s journey. It\u2019s an act of recognition.<\/p>\n

\"IMG_7443\"H<\/span>ere\u2019s what I think: Just as in the exhilarating moments after birth, when two souls meet, so too can a mother and her spiritual child find each other at any time when hearts are open, and at any twist or turn in the path. And when it happens, there\u2019s a flash of affinity, a kind of deep acknowledgement, a sense of ancient, inexplicable knowing.<\/p>\n

I can\u2019t say whether it was grace or God or serendipity that offered me and a sensitive young woman from Atlanta the opportunity to forge a connection that satisfies a longing in us both, but ours is surely a sacred alliance. To me, being a mom these days \u2013 whether to my own two sons or to my cherished surrogate daughter \u2013 is about seeing and nurturing the essential beauty in each of these young people, believing in their growth, inspiring them to realize their deepest potential even as they inspire me, in return, to realize mine.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think I willed you to me,\u201d<\/em> Lauren wrote me the other day, in a letter that prompted me to ponder our special bond \u2013 and to write these reflections down. She continued:<\/p>\n

I don’t know any other way to express this thought other than to say my soul had been searching for you. . . .Perhaps the biggest misconception is that we assume that you can only mother little kids, and that adults don’t need to be mothered. But look at us – I’m 35 and you’re 57. There’s no right or wrong time to connect, or to mother someone you didn’t bring into the world. Your kids flew the nest, and doesn’t that just mean they need you now in a different way? And now you’ve got me, too, updating you on potential matches, sharing books, advice, love, stories. I think about how I met you after years of working on some really difficult things, and while I don’t view myself as a wounded bird, there is <\/em>a part of me that you saved. This entire last year would have been a completely different experience for me if you weren’t in my life. I believe that deeply. And no one would have been able to predict this connection on that morning you first treated me to coffee at Life University.<\/p>\n

I’m glad the love flows in both directions, and I’m glad I have you as a mother in my life. I may no longer be held safely within the village of my youth, but I’m pretty sure your presence in my village today is just as special and important, simply because I choose you every day.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I<\/span>t\u2019s often said we can choose our friends but not our families. Not so. I\u2019ve chosen a daughter and she\u2019s chosen me. There are years we missed (no adolescent angst to recall, no funny anecdotes from childhood to laugh about), but no matter. Ours is a potent alchemy, one in which we are both being asked to stretch, to trust, to reveal our own vulnerabilities and shadows and yet to remain in sight, present for one another through life\u2019s sweet joys and its inevitable sorrows. An invisible thread has connected us — and the blessing flows both ways.<\/p>\n

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\u201cAn invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.\u201d ~ Chinese proverb I always wanted a daughter. Last year, I finally got one. She arrived not as a newborn into my arms, but into my heart […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":15183,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[29,8,14],"tags":[174,301,324,325],"class_list":{"0":"post-14389","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-friendship","8":"category-parenting","9":"category-soul-work","10":"tag-family","11":"tag-motherhood","12":"tag-parenting-2","13":"tag-parenting-journey","14":"entry"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/600x600.png?fit=600%2C600","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14389","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14389"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14389\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15183"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14389"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14389"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14389"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}