As cousins, nieces, nephews and subsequent generations of all of those met yesterday to lay to rest the last of the original Rutledge children, there was laughter, there were memories, there were tears. Knowing that Aunt Janet was reunited in the blink of an eye with Uncle Joe, Grandma and Grandpa Rutledge, Uncle Harlow, Mawmaw, Aunt Bobbie, Aunt Mert, and her twin, Uncle TJ gave much more than mere solace in the face of our loss - it gives us great Hope.
Sometime in my teen years, I began to push back and honestly resent the fact that allllll my family did at gatherings was talk about Jesus. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Can't we talk about anything else?" I was headed straight toward rebellion and the consequences that would accompany my choices. And so I became hostile toward any chatter that served to remind me of how far my heart had wandered. You see, some of our journeys take the "scenic route" - alongside the cliffs and overhangs as we edge along the rocky outcrops just to see how close we can get without falling over. Some lessons are to be learned firsthand. Some hearts must experience the weight of wandering before they can be bound to Jesus, as the old, familiar hymn alludes.
Yet even in our lessons there is mercy we don't deserve and grace we couldn't earn. My family has been the embodiment of that mercy and grace here in earth. What others would see has everyday, mundane living has been the gateway through which Brian and I have seen God's grace poured out repeatedly in tangible and encouraging ways.
As my second cousins, Aunt Janet's sons, offered glimpses into who she was at different points in her life, an overwhelming humility engulfed me as I stood there, wondering if anyone else knew how deeply the gift she and Uncle Joe had given us in the early months of our marriage affected who we had become.
Two weeks shy of high school graduation, Brian and I carried a secret that would soon reveal itself as we would become parents in six short months. We had nothing. His lease was up within weeks. He had just begun working at Dr Pepper and I was only working part time at a kids' clothing store. In the days before the pre-existing clauses were written out of insurance policies, my pregnancy pre-dated both his employment and our marriage. We spent the next three weeks attempting to shore up any kind of assistance and housing we could. Only we didn't qualify for anything. $5 a month too much for assistance. $5 a month not enough to rent an apartment. We were so engrossed in our own attempts to salvage something, anything before we would have to tell our families. To no avail.
As news of our expected baby traveled, of course, it got bigger and more convoluted. The rumors ranged from me not knowing who the father was to this being a plan we had come up with. The treatment I, in particular, received from former church members and deacons ranged from ignoring me completely, except the look of scorn, in Brian's presence to pointing across the aisles, whispering to one another, then walking away in plain view as I watched. Not only was I carrying the weight of the life growing inside me with no real way to provide for him but nearly every way I turned offered a new hurt in a different capacity. I was drowning in the sea of judgment and uncertainty.
That was when that family I had grown so irritated with took me into their arms, unconditionally. No one made me feel the shame others had heaped on me. No one whispered or pointed when I walked in the door. No one even looked at me skeptically, much less scornfully. All that I received from them was love, compassion, genuine care and excitement once the numbness of our announcement wore off.
Then, I got a phone call from Mawmaw. Aunt Janet and Uncle Joe had bought a house in Huntsville but their house in Spring had not sold yet. They ASKED us to live there until the old home could be sold in order to take care of the yard and the pool. Our only rent payment would be the work we would do around their new farm. Yes, you read that correctly - NO RENT. We knew nothing about pools or large plots of land. I didn't even know a convection oven was a thing. There were deer every evening and the most beautiful rises in that kitchen.
The three short months we lived in that gigantic house (it sure seemed gigantic with just the two of us there) allowed us to pay out of pocket a large portion of Kendall's delivery. It wasn't our home but we were allowed to call it home at a time when we needed it most. They gave us a three month jump start into adulthood, and parenthood, that could never be repaid. As a woman and stay at home mom also, it has never been lost on me that my Aunt Janet let me cook in her kitchen before she got the chance to even unbox a single pot. My Uncle Joe let us swim and relax in the pool before he even put a little pinky toe in it. We got to enjoy the quietness our hearts and souls needed in the refuge their farm gave. But more than all that, the hands on, wandering heart lesson I learned through their grace, mercy and love was that I CAN serve others and Jesus in everyday, mundane faithfully. Checking pool levels and weeding the front flower bed. Sharing my space with others when they've got no where else to go. Giving a "hand up" to those that are desperate and wandering.
As I stood there yesterday, I realized that most of my cousins had no idea of their quiet generosity to us as that scared, shaky footed, wounded young couple. They weren't in the business of advertising their love and grace but were about living it out, which in turn taught us all the more how to follow their example. The example they learned from Jesus Himself.
So as one more of the Rutledges was welcomed Home, I am left here with grateful tears, a deep sense of gratitude and awe, and a once wandering heart bound to Jesus because all they did was talk about Him. And loved like He loves.
