A Weekend in Houston

My first two summers in college, I worked for a church in Deer Park, Texas, just outside of Houston.  It was where I first learned for certain that I had no future as a children's minister.  Still, I was unbelievably blessed to work for a very godly pastor who taught me many lasting lessons about life and ministry.  And, I had the joy of investing in the lives of some pretty awesome teenagers those summers as well.  I am proud of the women they've become, though I take no credit for that whatsoever with the small exception of their appreciation for old school dc Talk.  I did do that.
Both of those summers I lived in a beautiful home with an even more beautiful family who did not even attend the church where I worked.  I knew during those summers that I was blessed.  I loved them very much.  I felt honored by the way they took me in and made me one of their own, never charging me a cent and insisting that I consider myself part of the family, meaning they bought groceries and paid for outings and invited me on trips whenever I was available.  It was a selfless generosity I found truly baffling at times, and in my youth, failed to fully appreciate.
I visited regularly over the next several years, but somewhere along the way I let busyness take over and stopped being intentional about that relationship and the next thing I knew, 5 years had gone by, the girls were grown, and I'd become a stranger.
This past weekend, I made a trip to Houston to visit.  I was excited but nervous, unsure of what to expect.  Their youngest daughter had been just 18 months old that second summer and a mere 6 years old the last time I'd visited.  She admitted sheepishly she had no memories of me.  The oldest daughter, my constant companion during those summers, is now 18, heading off to college this fall.  She remembers, but with the memory of a young child, and we must relearn how to relate now as grown women.
I don't seem to have words for all that filled my heart this weekend.  Every time I attempted to say aloud the things I was thinking and feeling, the words seemed so inadequate.  All four of them met me at the front door when I arrived Friday evening.  I was hugged warmly four times over, then brought directly to the dinner table where old patterns returned swiftly, strangely familiar again.  We talked non-stop those first few hours, forced ourselves to pause and go to bed at a decent time, hoping to make the most of our full day together on Saturday.  We spent Saturday at Kemah, one of my favorite places in all of Texas.  We ate seafood (something I never learned to do until I met this dear family), sitting outside on the boardwalk, watching the boats, and laughing about how we'd very accidentally and innocently stolen another patron's table.  I let the girls talk me into riding two carnival rides and quickly discovered I was too old to be turned upside down anymore.  I sat peacefully on a bench with my friends, making observations about the day or the crowds while we waited for the girls to take their turn on the next ride.  We browsed through shops, and fed sting rays, and returned home late in the afternoon, where I discovered the sun had turned my neck pink, save for the outline of a large cross I'd been wearing.  We fixed dinner and played dominoes and watched a recorded episode of American Idol, commenting comically on the judges and the musicians alike. On Sunday, I had the joy of worshiping with them in their church, something I rarely got to do while living with them and working in a different church.
As I packed my bags and loaded my car on Sunday afternoon, I felt my throat tighten and my eyes burn with unshed tears, and I knew I'd never be able to say all that I needed to say.  I told them how ashamed I was of the time I'd let slip away, how grateful I was for the wonderful weekend they'd provided me, and how only now, many years later could I truly begin to understand and appreciate all they'd done for me so many years ago.  We hugged tightly and promised to do better and I drove away, my mind already working through possibilities for another visit sooner than later.