Four Days

Four days.  What can one accomplish in four days?  I think it depends on the degree of motivation towards certain tasks.  I’ve helped paint a house in four days.  I've also blasted through a difficult weeks-long school assignment in four days.  Or how about the time I  managed to take a feisty bronc horse fresh off the rodeo circuit and in four days gentle him to the point of being led around an arena and ridden by junior campers who just thought "Bubba" was the best, most docile horse ever? (a heavy dose of help from on high was evident), but  yes, a high degree of motivation is key. 

I’m sitting in an airport waiting for my flight to board.  I've just spent an intense four days that will change my life.  As my Dad has aptly put it many times, “From now on, things are going to be different.”  These past four days, I willingly became vulnerable, opened up my heart, pushed past the moment where as an introvert, I felt I really needed alone time, and plowed back into a room full of chatter.  Willingly, happily, knowing that my life would be changed forever. Four powerful days. 

I married into a Pakistani family.  My mother in law came to America at the age of fourteen after having been adopted by American missionaries.  She made the difficult choice to leave her mother and six siblings in pursuit of an education in the States.  Her father had died suddenly, far too soon, leaving her mother as the sole provider on a seamstress salary, of seven hungry mouths.  Her mother made the extremely painful decision to offer her children the chance to be adopted, and go to America, learn all they could, and have a better life than she knew she could provide.  Two of her girls took the leap.  The family was split up with the knowledge that things for them would never be the same. 

Fast forward 56 years.  56 years ago was the last time the siblings were all together.  In those 56 years, they have had to bury their Mama and two of their sisters.  Not all of the sibs were able to be present for these events.  Karachi is a long ways from the Pacific Northwest where the two girls settled with two different families.  In those 56 years, the sisters and one brother have loved, lived, learned, married, raised families, reunited at times a couple at a time, kept in touch as best they could through letters, email, Skype, and many prayers of keeping each other safe across the miles.  But in 56 years, they have never been in the same room.  Until this week.  Until four days ago.  

Twenty-five years ago I had the privilege of marrying into this loving, exuberant, amazing family.  My mother-in-law is a legend among her friends.  She is tireless.  She is loud at times.  She is unabashedly joyful in how she shows love to those in her circle.  And it’s a huge circle.  If you are blessed enough to walk in that circle you can count on many meals at her table, piled high with homemade Indian food that will leave you quite unable to even push your chair back from said table.  You will be pressed…yes PRESSED, to have seconds, and homemade cookies and cakes and ice cream for dessert.  You will have to vehemently wave away more of the same if you are still in her home 3 hours later.   You will receive warm hugs- all you can handle, countless prayers and words of encouragement.  You will have bible verses written on post-it notes slipped into your hand when you are going through a rough time.  You will open your mailbox to find care packages of cookies, socks, hand-knit washcloths and letters of newsy incidents and most often, a gift of cash tucked inside.  You will not want for anything if you are one of my Mother-in-law's Beloved.  I have wanted for nothing for the past 25 years. (Okay, people in the airport lounge are wondering if I have allergies because I keep dabbing my eyes…love you Mom!!  Yes.  She has ALWAYS been Mom.  My own mother is Mama….). I have told her often that I am well aware that I won the MIL lottery when I married her son.  On a side note - marrying her son was something that I'm still not sure HOW I was able to pull off…. :O.  So I think you’ve got the picture.  My Father-in-law is no slouch. His story will be told another post. ;). Yes. I am very blessed to be a Perry, and I know it. 

So, a few weeks ago, word came through the Perry grapevine that the youngest sister and her youngest daughter would be traveling to the U.S. to see family.  The plan was for all of the sisters to meet at my in-law’s place in Washington State.  Wow.  What an opportunity!!  My husband’s brother quickly recognized the import of this and knowing that a bit of nudging would be required, asked my husband what he thought of working together to secretly fly the brother in from England to surprise the sisters.  Are you kidding me?  We were immediately in.  WAY IN.  What a fun fun way to thank our mother and father for all their selfless acts towards us over many years.  Could we pull it off?  It was obvious that the fewer who knew the details, the less the chance of discovery.  So we plotted.  Arrangements were made, flights were purchased, silences were bought and/or threatened, and The Plan was under way.  How we made it all work is still a mystery to me, but as my new family would say, God was willing.  Uncle was picked up at the airport by my husband who had barely slept due to suppressed anticipation the night before.  He arrived at our house and immediately the conspiratorial air was palpable.  I had only met Uncle one time before and had skyped with he and his lovely wife a number of times.  But any awkwardness at barely knowing each other was brushed away with the first hug.  We WERE family after all.  He spent the next day with me running errands and filling me in on his life in England, and the next day the three of us were off on a long drive to surprise the sisters.  Holy Cow if only I had time to explain the antics we’d gone through to keep his presence on American soil a secret!!  I phoned my MIL as we left, per our usual procedure, didn’t want to veer from that.  But I had to feed her misinformation as to our exact whereabouts and departure time.  We had to continue the ruse that there would not possibly be time to join all of them at the airport to greet the arriving sisters.  The plan was to safely ensconce Uncle at my husband’s brother’s house where we were staying, and then have Uncle casually saunter down the stairs and voila….see what happened.  Our hope was that none of the sisters would have a coronary at the surprise.   

The Plan went off without a hitch.  Mom was SO surprised.  I think that was the first time I have ever seen her cry.  We all were in tears.  It was an intensely emotional moment.  The final piece of the puzzle, the remaining U.S. sister, was flying in two days later.  But for my MIL to have just greeted her beloved sister from Karachi  that she hadn’t seen in so long, and then to find out that her brother was present too, making a full family reunion possible?  It was all too much for any of us to fathom.  Many tears, hugs, details, and incredulous stares were thrown around the room.  There were moments of just staring at each other.  I was gazing at family that I had never met before.  My lovely new-to-me Auntie and her beautiful, poised daughter, all the way from Pakistan.  I was loving up on my other Auntie whom I hadn’t seen in 15 years, and apologizing to my in-laws for lying to them all day about our true whereabouts.  We had to confess that we had arrived early and spent several long minutes hiding behind a restaurant along their chosen path to the airport.  My 10 year old nephew was the absolute star of the day, having known all along about The Plan, and having kept it a secret from his beloved Nana and Papa.  Oh yes, God had definitely been willing!  Have you noticed so far that these wonderful people are being referred to as MY people?  The fact that I married into Paki has long ago been lost.  These souls are flesh of my flesh.  Family. 

So. For four days we have cultivated relationships.  Generational, religious, and cultural practice gaps have all been bridged.  Small talk lasted about twenty seconds and then heart to hearts followed.  “So in our country we do this, how do you show that in your country?  When your citizens do this, what does that mean?  What does it mean when we see this on TV from your country?  Is that real? Or just the media?  And most importantly….how and when are we going to be together again??"  We came together.  Different cultures.  Different colors.  Different interpretations of who and what God is and what does he want from us? How does your country feel about our country when we do this??  Amazing answers.  Eyes opened.  Perceptions turned on their heads.  Relationships formed, and solidified, and etched in family blood….in four days.  It’s all a bit overwhelming.  I know I will be living and reliving every gesture, comment, expression, for months.  These people, that I didn't even really register before, have become so dear and needed and rock solid….in FOUR DAYS. 

I am flying back to my home ahead of The Husband and Uncle because of work.  Not all of us have oodles of vacation time. ;). I had planned to read during the flight.  To decompress.  To exhale and just be.  But no.  So many words inside of me that need to be told.  So much gratitude at what has just happened.  So much “From now on things are going to be different.”  How you say? Well for one, I'm not willing to let these precious members of mine melt back into the recesses of my mind.  They are here to stay.  I want to learn more about them and their siblings, my cousins, my other Aunties and Uncles.  We are a far flung family.  I want to offer our home as a refuge and bed and breakfast, lunch and dinner to any family member who wants to travel and see America from my neck of the woods.  I want to commune with, love up on, learn to know this branch of my husband's heritage.  I want my children to meet their cousins and to arrange their own surprise visits.  

If you don't have Paki Aunties or Uncles, I feel sorry for you.  It means that you probably weren't lavished upon with amazing, one of a kind jewelry, some of it heirloom.  It means you didn't have the opportunity to learn how to make special meals that taste delicious.  It means you didn't get to sit with someone you didn't know yesterday, and hold each other's hands while you laughed about silly differences in your cultures. It means you didn't get to pose for pictures wearing brand new clothes packed thousands of miles by your thoughtful family members.  You probably also didn't benefit from a lovely back rub and interested questioning of all about your daily life and what do you like and dislike and who are you really? type conversations after gorging on your second authentic Indian meal of the day.  Yes.  I feel sorry for you.  See, I've just come from four days filled with laughter and discovery and budding awareness and gratitude.  It will take awhile for all of that to sink in.  And when it does?  It will be etched in my mind and repeat experiences will be sought with these lovely people.  So again I ask you.  What can YOU accomplish in four days??  

Until you figure it out....

...Make it a great day!