I've spent the last three days in my tiny hometown of Lefors. It's funny how it takes about half a day to acclamate to the culture of this little place, and before you know it you've been sucked back in. I'm always amazed at how easy it is to lose yourself here. There is a sense of comfort that makes you forget you have a life back in Fort Worth.
Our six-man football team made it to the regional playoffs after 30 years of being losers, and the community is in an uproar. Everyone has dyed their hair orange, and I can hear sirens and honking as a caravan of cars snake through town leaving a trail of school spirt lingering behind them. I'm reminded of my teenage years, so naive and full of simple faith.
My cousin Devan plays for the Lefors Pirates, and I've enjoyed watching his mom and others pouring their lives into another generation of children. Human nature wants to judge these folks for their small worlds and narrow mindedness, but deep down I know they are just doing what all good families do -- supporting and loving one another.
I've spent some time reflecting on my own family. Through all the dysfuntion--alcoholism, divorce, jail visits--we have a lasting sense of loyalty and commitment towards each other. Love runs deep, and we make maintaining our relationships a priority. No one in the Frank's family spent the holiday alone. We were together, and I realized that we are Nora's legacy. She breathed hope into our hearts, and today she considers us all the light of her life.
Going home reminds me that something bigger than myself is in charge. I just wish I understood Him.