Monday Motivation: The Tie That Binds

Friends

I just returned from a week of family celebrations. It was glorious! We celebrated the 124th Peden Reunion, a gathering of my father’s Scots-Irish extended family at the historic Presbyterian Church founded by my ancestors in 1786. We enjoyed a day of history wandering through the church cemetary and touring historic family homesites. The reunion itself was a grand affair with 120+ in attendance. The reunion began with its traditional program held in the church, and this year, I had the honor of being the speaker for the program. Thankfully, I remembered all my lines, and my presentation was well received by our clan. The fellowship meal to follow was full of hugs, laughter, and of course, the thing us Scots-Irish do best, storytelling!

Yes, it was an amazing, heartwarming day, but the celebrating wasn’t done. The sharing and storytelling continued with several smaller family gatherings throughout the week. It was so good to spend time with my parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Certainly one of the highlights of the week was the surprise 85th birthday party we threw for my mother. I managed to pull together a collection of my cousins from my mother’s side of the family. While we don’t

get together often, it never fails to be a joyous celebration whenever we do gather. Indeed, it was a week full of blessings to treasure! Thanks be to God!

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“I thank my God every time I remember you.”

Philippians 1:3 – NIV

I can still recall the back seat of that “67 Pontiac Tempest, my blonde curls bobbing up and down as I bounced on the big hump that rose up from the middle of the floorboard. I couldn’t stop bouncing because my tiny frame was practically bursting with excitement. No way could I sit still!

I was headed home, back to the farm in the Upstate of South Carolina, back to the waiting hugs of my grandparents and cousins, back to the dancing paws of my dog Blackie, back to the cows, the pasture, the tractors, and the little white clapboard farmhouse that was the only real home I had ever known. the wheels of that Pontiac Tempest couldn’t get me there fast enough! The year was 1969, and I was 8 years old.

School was finally out for summer, and my parents and I were traveling south from our most recent Army posting in Chicago, Illinois. Daddy had returned home from Vietnam the previous November after a long year of waiting and worrying. We had spent Thanksgiving and Christmas on the farm and then headed north to Fort Sheridan, Illinois. Daddy had orders to report for duty on January 1, and we did so, arriving On New Year’s Eve with a blizzard as our welcoming party. Our Southern skins were not prepared for that frigid cold, and neither was the Pontiac Tempest, showing its displeasure by refusing to start the next morning. Let’s just say it was an interesting introduction to “The Windy City!”

We had managed to find a small rental house in a Chicago suburb and get me enrolled in the local elementary school, but fitting in wasn’t so easy. In fact, I stood out like a sore thumb. Not only was I the new kid in a class full of kids who knew each other well, but my strong Southern drawl made me sound like an alien from another planet, and my classmates treated me like one.

It had been a difficult six months, and I was thrilled to be headed south, headed home to see my family, headed home to the place where I belonged. I recall poking my blonde head over the front seat, filling the gap between my Mama and Daddy. I couldn’t stop bouncing, and I couldn’t stop talking, my mouth moving a mile a minute, sending forth a flurry of words that exclaimed my excitement about our eventual destination. My brown cow eyes flew back and forth between my parents’ faces, my one-sided conversation all about the list of things I was going to do when I finally made it to the farm.

Happy smiles stretched the faces of my parents. They, too, were glad to be going home, glad to be going to the place where they would be welcomed with open arms. They were excited, and Daddy said so, the sound of his deep voice pressing the pause button on my chatterbox. That’s when my father said something I have never forgotten over all these many years. He chimed in on my excitement, and then said, “You know, Anita, friends are great, but this is family, and family’s different.”

The bonds of family, our cousin connections, our mutual heritage, it is different, it is unique, it is special. Like the words of the ancient hymn, “Blessed be the tie that binds,” there is definitely a tie that binds.

As I sat around the table with my family this past week, I felt that tie, that bond, that connection. I only see many of my cousins once a year, some of them even less often. Still, no matter the distance between our homes, or the length of time between our visits, we seem to pick up where we left off. There is something intangible running deep within our veins that connects us. It is family, it is heritage, it is different. It is indeed a wondrous blessing!

Friends, let us not fail to savor the precious moments in our lives. Let us slow our pace and take notice. Let us listen closely and carefully, cultivating our connections, taking time to make memories. Those opportunities are fleeting. We will not pass this way again, so let’s you and I not miss the chance to celebrate our connections and give thanks for our blessings!

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“And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.”

Philippians 1:9-11 – NIV

PRAYER

O Gracious Lord, thank You for our families, for the love that binds us together, for the connections that draw us close. Thank You for the opportunities to gather and reminisce, for the chance to connect and support. Help us to be there for one another in our times of need. Lord, let us be a blessing just as we have been so richly blessed.

In the Loving Name of Jesus, we give thanks and praise,

Amen

Blessings,

Anita

-APS 7/24/2023