By Deb Boelkes
Have you ever considered why you were born into the circumstances that you were?
Some schools of thought assert that we choose the families we will be born into before we make our appearance as infants. Some believe it is through angelic foreknowledge that we select the time, place, lifestyle situation, and parent(s) who will best enable us to experience the kind of challenges and life-lessons that our soul needs to continue to develop spiritually, earthly life by earthly life, throughout eternity.
If you’ve read any of my books, you are probably aware that I was an only child. While my earliest years were tranquil and carefree, my home life grew increasingly tumultuous when my mother succumbed to alcoholism and my father essentially stopped coming home when I was in high school. Seeking some sense of stability until I was able to strike out on my own, I spent most of my after-class hours with my best friend’s family.
I can’t begin to imagine what could have become of me had it not been for this truly generous and loving family who essentially took me in as their own, no questions asked, at a time when I needed them most. Perhaps the biggest blessing of all is that they have continued to be my family to this very day.
If I could have picked my parents from the get-go, I would have picked my best friend’s parents and circumvented all the chaos life threw at me during my pre-teen and teenage years. Yet, it was no doubt all the existential challenges I faced growing up that enabled me to become a stronger, more self-reliant, and appreciative young adult than many of my peers. Perhaps I would be a dramatically different person today had it not been for my possibly predestined path.
Some years later, when I asked my chosen mom, “How can I ever repay you for all you have done for me?” she simply replied, “Just pay it forward to others.” I’ve been looking for ways to do that ever since.
Eventually I had two sons of my own. As a parent, my goal was to enable my children to become strong, self-reliant, and appreciative adults. My youngest son gave me a wonderful affirmation when one Mother’s Day he gave me a small sign (still proudly displayed in my kitchen) which says: “If I could have picked my mother, I would have picked you.”
Four years ago, while my husband and I were on a driving trip with friends around the southeastern U.S., we made plans to spend two nights at a historic Bed & Breakfast near the Shiloh National Military Park in southwestern Tennessee. When our friends had to unexpectedly fly home on the day we were to arrive at the inn, my husband and I turned out to be the B&B’s only guests.
On the first morning of our stay, our gracious innkeeper / host treated us to an impressive four-course breakfast in the elegant and patriotically themed dining room. As we enjoyed the plantation-style breakfast feast, our host—a newly-retired Navy pilot—sat down with us at the dining room table to tell us all about the historical surroundings.
While the conversation was fascinating, both my husband and I were even more fascinated by the fact that our host looked and behaved just like one of our sons—the one who had been a pilot in the U.S. Marines. The two of them could have been brothers.
During our leisurely parlance, our host shared that, contrary to what the majestic accoutrements on display throughout the inn might have implied about his heritage, he had been born to a young, drug addicted, unwed mother and grew up poor. At age 16 he lived under a bridge. He joined the military to make something more of his life.
After sharing his life story with us, he leaned across the table, looked us both in the eyes, and with heartfelt earnestness proclaimed that we were just the kind of parents he had always wished he’d had. My husband and I conveyed how uncanny it was that we, too, felt as though he and his lovely family would fit in perfectly with ours.
Eighteen months later, a hurricane hovering over Cuba suddenly turned north and careened up the Florida peninsula. Unable to determine whether the storm would weave east or west as it closed in on Florida’s northern border—and whether our Amelia Island home would take a direct hit or be spared—my husband and I decided to evacuate. It seemed our only option to get reliably out harm’s way was to head toward western Tennessee.
As we hightailed our way across the backroads of Georgia and Alabama, in efforts to circumvent the mass migration of cars evacuating up the interstates from south Florida, we decided the historic B&B near the Shiloh National Military Park would be an ideal refuge until the hurricane had run its course. Fortunately, there was room in the inn.
During this visit, we got to know the innkeeper’s family even better than before. When we arrived, their elementary school-aged son came running out to greet us with as much love and affection as dearly missed grandparents might expect. He couldn’t wait to show us his schoolwork and science projects. Before we even got our bags out of the car, he eagerly introduced us to the family’s chickens and proudly explained what he had just learned about Nebulae in science class.
We all formed such special bonds during that unplanned but fortuitous stay, none of us wanted to part when we finally got word that the hurricane had passed, and the roads were clear enough for us to return home. My husband and I concluded that if we could pick yet another son, daughter-in-law, and grandchild to be in our family, it would certainly be them. We have considered them beloved family members ever since.
Although Desmond Tutu has said, "You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them", whether people become our kin through heritage, marriage, or happenstance, we can rest assured that God picks just the right people to enter our lives at just the right times.
Now think back to my original question: “If you could pick your family, who would they be?”
Who is it that comes to mind?
If you haven’t included them in your family circle yet, why not invite them in? Doing so might bring you greater blessings than you could ever imagine.