we spent the past weekend at my parents and it just so happened that the linden tree at my childhood home was in full bloom and ready for harvest. my brother cut some branches down, so my mom and could pluck the flowers. they will be drying under the warm and dark roof of the farm house, and be ready for tea brewing coming the colder season again. lots of memories springing up right there, plucking linden flowers with my oma, when when i wasn't even in school. not that i plucked a lot, but i can still see her clearly, sitting under the tree in the lovely shade with a kerchief covering her head. she was one of those hard working, never resting farm woman. not all the memories i have of her are sweet and lovely. she had alzheimer's deseas and i was her scape goat, if the house key could not be found it was me hiding it. i learned to live with all the accusations. my parents knew it wasn't me and in retrospect i'm thankful for all the learning i was able to do. of course it wasn't all the times in this light, as i see it now. frequently i was getting very upset and was angry toward her. though over time the good memories heal so many wounds. and i wouldn't be me if i would not have been shaped by oma for that matter.
funny how the linden tree is bringing this back to me right now, surfacing just now. live has it's own ways to make it's imprints and carves us in it's ways. seeing this moments in the light of forgiveness, of gentle nudging toward the love and kindness we want to nurture in our family, it's magical and i do not hesitate to say, God given. wanting to teach my children the ways our ancestors walked, letting them become part of the learning i did, my parents did, my grandparents did. following the calling of life the Lord has in store for them, for each of us. sharing our lives passionately.
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