Mine is a story-telling family. Most of the men in my family have left. The women in my family are the elders and they continue to pass on the knowledge and wisdom of the ages in torrents. Whenever family members gather the aunts dispense vast amounts of story, telling us about the time before we arrived and the time when we were young. I have been involved in many family gatherings, both my own and others. I have never witnessed such a desire to weave the family story as I have in my own gatherings.

 

I am home with my mum this week as she grieves the loss of my step-father Ken. Throughout this time my mum and one of my aunts continue to carry on the tradition of story-telling. As always I am enriched and blessed by the tales which are often filled with pain, sadness, and violence but more often then not also strength of character, courage and a deep love between mother and child which overcomes the adversity despite the continued patterns through the generations.

 

So as I am here ministering to my mum she ministers back with sage memories that she simply cannot contain in the presence of her children. The women in my family have suffered brutally at the hands of others as well as their own but they are all pictures of passion and sacrifice and I am better for them.