Not All Families Are the Same

It was suggested to me the other day that there are certain things I simply can’t understand or appreciate in life because I don’t have a family of my own.  A.K.A. a husband and children. At first, I was incredibly insulted and hurt by this person’s comment. Then I realized that I simply live my life with a different conception of what constitutes family.


It is true that I don’t have a husband and children. But my life is not emptier or less demanding because of this fact. The truth is that I have a very extended family that I hold myself responsible to on a daily basis.

When most people think of the word “family,” they think of their parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, and cousins. They are those people that we are, whether we like it or not, related to by blood or marriage. All of these people are part of our families. But the people I consider to be family often fall outside of these conventional qualifications.

I grew up as an only child, which at times, was frustrating when I wanted a sibling to support me or back me up on something. But I had something far better than a sibling. I had a best friend, who even after 21 years, is still the best sister I could’ve ever asked for. She has been the person who has stood by me through everything, who has supported me even when some people in my “family” turned against me, and has shown me the true measure of what the word “family” means.

I’ve been blessed with several other friends throughout the years too who have loved me without question or hesitation. They have helped me through challenges and lent a judgment-free ear when I needed to talk. I consider all of them part of my family.

But I don’t just consider people to be my family who have been there to love and take care of me. I reach out to as many people in my life as possible and love them in such a way that shows them I make no distinction between them and the people who are related to me by blood. I have always done so…not because I want extra brownie points from anyone, but because it has just never occurred to me to live any other way.

I’ve had friends call me in the middle of the day bawling their eyes out over something. Rather than just sit there and text them like a normal friend would do, I get in my car and drive to their house to see them right at that moment. And did I mention I stop at the grocery store on the way to pick up Oreos for them because that’s their favorite food?

I’ve been on Facebook and seen friends post very depressed statuses before…friends who live in another town from me. And again, I get right in my car and drive out of town and straight to their front door to tell them---in person---that I’m there for them.

I’ve spent hours staring at rows of baby pacifiers in a store trying to make sure I pick out the perfect one for a friend’s newborn child.

I’ve offered to wire a friend money, as much as they needed, to make sure they make it home for a family funeral because they don’t have the funds to make the trip themselves.

I could go on forever. But the point is that I bend over backwards to love and take care of people in my life. And I do my best to love those people unconditionally. I take those people, as well as their family/friends/significant others, into my life and make them my family. I hold myself responsible for taking care of them and supporting them just as much as if they were my actual family. I drop everything in a heartbeat to be there for them. I might not do this 100% of the time but I do the very best I can because I can’t imagine living any other way.

I don’t have a husband. And I don’t have any children of my own. But I have just as many responsibilities, if not more, than people I know who do have those things. It is true that I have some freedoms that married people with children no longer enjoy. But the truth is that I usually end up filling my extra time and using my extra energy to attend to my very extended and unconventional family. So to the person who told me I don’t have a family to worry about and go home to each day, and to anyone who would be inclined to make a similar statement, I implore you to look beyond stereotypes and conventions and realize that not all families are as straightforward as society likes to portray them. They come in all shapes and sizes. And personally, I feel truly blessed to have found so many people in my life that I am able to call my FAMILY.  

You Have Been Blessed With a Burden

While watching the movie “Freedom Writers” the other day, I heard an interesting comment made during it that made me hang my head and smile. For I felt all too well the weight of those words in my life. They were this: “You have been blessed with a burden.”

Several months ago, someone close to me commented that I have “soft skills” because I am a writer. It was stated factually, not as in insult. Nonetheless, the words stuck. Unlike the highly schooled and respected skills of engineers, doctors, scientists, firemen, and other such professions, writers have “soft skills”. And supposedly my skills require less education, less intelligence, and less effort. They are less desirable in society, less respected, less sought after, and significantly less compensated. Supposedly.

Years ago, this person’s comments about my “soft skills” would’ve burn my ego like hell. They would’ve made me feel insignificant and worthless. I would’ve felt guilty about the money my parent’s invested in my writing degree. Years ago, I would’ve let this person opinion, or rather the majority of society’s opinion, of the work I do bring me to my knees. But that was before I was put through some of the hardest tests of my life and shown just how crucial and un-soft my skills as a writer truly are.

Writers are among that rugged but beautiful genre of humanity known as artists. Alongside them are dancers, musicians, sculptors, painters, and countless others. Some of them are educated—others self taught. Some live in mansions—others in boxes on the street. But all of them, all of us, live and die by our art. It is who we are. It is our most inherent quality. And it cannot be remove—even on the days when we plead with God to remove it.

We aren’t doctors. But we save lives every single day. That song you hear on the radio after a devastating break up—that one that calms your restless heart for a moment—that song was written and performed by an artist. Those words read aloud in churches all across the globe each Sunday morning—those words were scribed by writers brave enough to share their beliefs and spread the word of Christ. The words of the Bible save countless souls each day.

We aren’t civil engineers, but we build masterpieces that take people’s breath away. Every year, millions of tourists travel to the Louvre Museum in Paris to witness in person the creations of da Vinci and Michelangelo or to the Sistine Chapel to see the depiction of the Last Supper. They travel to Florence to see the statue of David.  

We aren’t scientists but we make discoveries and bring new ideas into the world. Shakespeare taught us of the exquisite depth and devastation of true love. Thoreau showed us that living simply and within our natural surroundings may very well bring us the greatest inner peace and happiness. Martha Graham dared to bring new and more modern steps into the dance world. 

We aren’t daredevils, but we do the impossible each day. Beethoven was deaf throughout most of his composing career, yet wrote music so beautiful it made people cry. Picasso broke every rule of art during his day with his cubist paintings and never sold a painting during his lifetime. Yet today his paintings sell for well over 100 million dollars.

We don’t run into burning buildings to save anyone, but we do put our very hearts and souls on the line for our art. We work for little money—sometimes for free. We spend our lives being judged, misunderstood, and ridiculed. We shoulder the relentless burden of rejection. Our lives are often plagued by solitude and loneliness. And yet, despite all of this, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

My greatest moment of revelation as a writer came nearly two years ago when a friend asked me to help him write a memorial speech to read at his sister’s funeral that had passed away from Leukemia. I was overwhelmed with both grief and joy at the request. It was the greatest blessing and burden I have ever been bestowed with. But I bore it all with the compassion and dignity and grace that all artists are called to bear.

Artists, of any type, may be bestowed with soft skills. But they aren’t soft people at all. We have one of the hardest jobs on earth. We are responsible for holding people and life itself together with one note, one word, one step, one brush stroke, one dent in a mound of clay. We dare to say the things the rest of the world is too afraid to say. We put things on the stage, in the frame, on the page, that others simply do not know how to. In moments, both personal and historical, when others flounder, we are the ones people look to for inspiration and comfort. To make something disastrous appear beautiful once more. To make sense of what seems so much against God’s plan. To bring light into the darkness of our world.

Being asked to compose a eulogy for a grieving friend is not a request many could answer. For me it was never a request. It was simply part of my calling from God as a writer. Being a writer is no easy job. It requires sacrificing parts of your soul each day in order to put words on a page that will change lives, inspire lives, preserve lives. It is a burden. But it is a burden God blessed me with and one that I bear with all the willingness that Christ bore the cross.