Half-Century Colours

Last weekend we had a special time with Tim’s family, celebrating the 50 years of his parents’ marriage. It felt like a sweet sort of miracle: nineteen people from three generations, all gathered to honour the road that’s been travelled and the place it’s brought us to today.

It’s tempting when reflecting on journeys to think most about the milestones. Tim had worked long and hard on collecting photographs into a beautiful album, and on the surface each photo marks a milestone of some sort. The wedding day where it all began, followed by smiling honeymoon shots under a Portuguese sun. Not long after that the first baby photos begin, a string of four peas in a pod at various stages of feeding, walking, playing and learning. These photos are way-markers from around the world, some hinting at childhoods in Singapore and Australia, others from the years in Nigeria, after crossing the Sahara when Tim and his siblings were young. Of course, there are weddings and the births of grandchildren, then baptisms and graduations. Milestones passed during 50 years of family life.

What struck me, though, wasn’t the sense of achievement that milestones indicate. It was the journey itself, the process of two people - and then several more - becoming who they are today. Two lives melding into one as each learned to give and receive, to support and to be supported. And the particular hue of the colours that reflect from one to the other can be seen today, bouncing off all the members of the family as when light shines through coloured glass making everything look a little orange, or pink, or blue.

There’s an open-handed generosity that has impacted the generations. Or at least, a non-attachment to the frills of 21st century living, to the idea that we have to own this or that in order to be successful. Not at all ascetic, it's nevertheless a way of thinking about success that is counter-cultural in a markedly good way.

Then there’s the justice-oriented way of seeing the world and the desire to stand up for what is right. Argumentative at worst, fiercely protective at best, this is a willingness to be known for one’s beliefs and values and to show up on behalf of the underdog, even at great personal risk. 

There’s a sort of earthy humility here too. It’s as if the dirt of this half-century old pathway itself is such that no one can think too highly of themselves. There’s an equality and solidarity that means that family gatherings are noise-filled affairs, since no one’s voice is less important than another’s. This way of journeying can mean the oldest apologising to the youngest and the wisest learning from the simplest. Of course, it can simply mean that no one really listens, but that’s true of most families!

And in spite of the absolute Englishness of this family in many ways - the public school tones; the endless cups of tea; the orderly clutter on the one hand, offset on the other by the attention to detail when it comes to important things like what can be composted, or how the long the coffee sits in the press before plunging - there is a sense of openness to the nations of the world and to all that they have to teach us. 

I would dare to say that the whole picture is coloured most noticeably by an orientation towards God’s good future, and a belief that - no matter how small and insignificant we feel - we can participate in bringing that future to the world around us, both near and far.

What seems most important though is that somehow, through the years of navigating both the bumpy parts of the road and the places of plain sailing, the people in this family have learned to get along. To put up with one another’s quirks and, on the whole, to enjoy one another. No one would say that the final picture couldn’t use a little touching up here and there, but the colours shining through the last 50 years are still vibrant.