Tales of a Traveling Teusink: Family

Living in community is often the hardest and best thing about living overseas.

The hard things have many a post about them on many a blog, but today I want to celebrate the thing I love most about it: the family that it becomes.

Let me go back a bit...

I remember as a little girl being so proud of my family. I'm incredibly proud of all of my biological cousins and their families, and in awe of my aunts and uncles and the things that they have done. The stories that they tell, the food that they cook, the way I feel at home in any of their houses. My grandmothers are two of the strongest women that I know, and if I had the opportunity to know my grandfathers well I know that they have been the warmest laps for me to climb into and some of my biggest cheerleaders. My grandmothers taught me how to paint and crochet, how to see mountains as an art project and kitchens as a place of bonding and love. My family is incredible, and I love every piece of both sides of it differently and deeply.

And living overseas is hard because they're not just a drive away. I can't pop down for the weekend or drive over to see the plays and concerts. I have to love them at a distance, often through Facebook posts and text messages.

But when I was small and living in Rwanda, I was surrounded by aunts and uncles and cousins and grandmas and grandpas...but we didn't share any blood. I loved knocking on Aunt Carol's door and asking if it was time for tea (and of course if she had a cookie for me). I loved knowing that Aunt Louise's house was one that I was always welcome in (even in college). I know that Uncle Doctor Grandpa Al was one of the most important people in my dad's life, and as a result one of the most important people in mine.

When we moved to the US in 1st grade, we were finally close to our blood family, but our extended community family kept growing. Marvi was my grandma, and times at her kitchen counter were some of the best times I've ever had (complete with wheat thins and easy cheese). Ken and Dawnelle are in a lot of ways second parents to me, with countless stories we could all tell of good times and bad, growth and frustration. Mackenzie and Mattie are my sisters, with so many hours of laughter and far too much ice cream.

College was no different. Uncle Elmore was my Father's Day date...Aunt Arlene my Jeopardy companion...Aunt Harriet my Sunday lunch home (and wisdom teeth recovery nurse)...Uncle Henry and Aunt Bonnie my weekend oasis. There are so many more that aren't mentioned here but still played a major role in what makes me, me.

Family is important. Blood or not.

And here in China, it's the same way. I wondered when I moved here if I would be the Auntie Bek that I am in the States. If there would be families that I could invest in the way that I was invested in.

And there are.

This weekend, I got to be Aunty Bekah to some of my favorite people of the planet, Judah, Eden, Zion, and now Elias.

There were tears...there was laughter...there were cuddles...and stories...and love...and frustration...and a whole lot of coloring.

There were the unexpected questions, like "Why do you like us so much?"

And then on Monday as I passed Miss Zion in the hall at school, there was the hug and the exclamation of "Thank you so much for yesterday! I love you!"

And my heart is full.

Family is important, blood or not.