No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. ~John Donne
A Connecticut farmhouse with generous lawns. Potato sack races, a pick-up softball game. Tables groaning with homemade cakes and pies. And, for only a quarter, bottles of birch beer and orange soda could be pulled from the ice–enough to make any child’s heart dance.
Because it was a Sunday School picnic, a hymn-sing–my aunt’s feet fueling the pump organ, generations piled on top of each other in the shade of the trees. The youngest ones, worn out by the sun-drenched games, would miss the sparklers and glow worms that waited for night to fall.
These were my father’s people, many unknown to me, yet mysteriously my own. A web, an unbreakable connection, my roots.
Many years later, the Santa Cruz mountains. Marching band and homegrown parade. Ice-cream sundaes, women chattering on blankets in the shade of the redwoods. Men shepherding face-painted children on the lawn. A worship service in the grove, the centerpiece of Family Camp–a family tied together not by blood, but by the Spirit.
These are God’s people, many unknown to me, yet mysteriously my own. A web, an unbreakable connection, nourishment for my roots.
Declaration of Dependence
I would prefer independence. I have inherited the American love for wide open possibilities and pride of self-reliance. Asking for help comes with a cost, the loss of the illusion that I am my own.
For, illusion it is. Self-sufficiency was the serpent’s lie, and we swallow it anew in each generation.
So, this is my Declaration of Dependence: Across the divide of generations and geography, nations and natures, we need each other.
Do you find it difficult to rely on others? What would you add to the Declaration of Dependence?
image credit
