The Suitcase

Almost thirteen years ago, I started working on a biography of my grandmother. The book is now complete and published. In the process of researching for the book, I came across some old trunks in my parent's storage shed. There was one suitcase in particular which called out to me. Lo and behold, when I opened it -- I found it full of old pictures-- pictures from the 1800's - there were also letters, a diary of my grandmother's , some miscellaneous newspaper clippings and important documents. I didn't have time to sort through everything that day, so I just picked the suitcase up and took it with me to Africa.

The suitcase remained in the back of a closet. From time to time, I would pull it out and look through the pictures and wonder "who are all these people?" Having been born and raised in Singapore to missionary parents, I had almost no contact with my extended family. Those were the days before internet, cell phones and international phone calls were the exception not the rule....so distance was a factor in the lack of contact with the extended family.I envied others when they would talk of their cousins...uncles...grandparents...etc. Especially, growing up in Asia where extended family is a big part of life!! Now, in that suitcase, I had found a family that stretched from the West Coast of America all the way over to the East Coast.....I just didn't know who they were...yet.....

Fast forward to the summer of 2005, I visited the States to see my eldest son. My sister, Debbie, flew out from Oklahoma to meet me and I pulled out the suitcase. She was fascinated. We spent an entire night going through the suitcase.. We went from the suitcase to the internet, trying to find clues as to who the people were. There were inscriptions on the back of the pictures-- but they all seemed so cryptic. And then one single postcard, written by my g-g aunt Nellie (can't figure out- is it great great aunt? Or great grand aunt? or grand great aunt? ...anyhow my great- grandmother's sister!)...she had written the postcard to my great-grandmother Annie Muhm Teuber ...the postcard had the picture of Neligh, Nebraska and was sent to Tacoma, Washington. It was a simple message- but it unlocked the identity of the rest of the people in the suitcase-- the Muhms...the Mayhews...the Knapps....the Teubers...suddenly I had family coming out of my ears!!

I went to work on contacting the relatives to tell them I had pictures of their relatives. I spent the next few weeks sending packages of pictures to the families that I felt were the rightful owners....a picture of someone's grandfather...should be with that person...not with me! Through these messages back and forth, I got to know a third cousin here and a fifth cousin there and a fourth cousin over there...I was delighted!!!

Now my kids get a big kick out of saying, "Mom, everyone is somehow related to you!"....What a treasure my grandmother left for me....she left me a family. What a delightful family they are!! In getting to know them, I've come to know so much more about myself-- about my mom-- about my siblings...yes, indeed, my grandmother left me a priceless treasure!!
 
The postcard which unlocked the mystery.

 Frederick Muhm and family

 

Ghana- 1999- Seeing in the Dark

There is nothing unusual about the electricity going off in Africa; however, something special happened one night when it went off. Sometimes it takes the lights going off for me to notice important things about those I love.

Life stops for no one, it just slows down once in awhile so that I gain a proper perspective. The sad thing is I often struggle with the slowing down and want to rush on ahead. When I rush I miss the opportunity to discover priceless truths about those around me.

The electricity had been off most of the day and it hadn’t come on when it was time to go to sleep. The humidity made it so easy to feel uncomfortable. I kept tossing and turning, attempting to find a better position. When I rolled from my back to my side, my back peeled itself away from the sheets and then my side re-attached itself firmly to the bedding.

I could hear everything so clearly: the night sounds, the next door neighbors. I listened to my husband’s rhythmic breathing. He was still awake.

Listening to his breathing, my mind wandered back to a short feature film I had seen earlier that day. “Jacob's Harvest” was a simple film about a family struggling to come to terms with various problems and trials. There were two brothers featured and one always appeared to be getting the short end of the stick because he was the more responsible one. He seemed to be missing out on life because of his strong sense of duty and obligation.

At one point in the film the old farmer asked his adult son "It's not easy always being the responsible one, is it?"

Lying there in the darkness thinking about what that man had said, tears slipped down my cheeks. The farmer’s words made me think of my husband. He has always been the responsible one; never running away from what he needed to do. He had many opportunities to do easier jobs. He had chances to escape hardships, but he always chose to stick with what needed to be done. I cried for the many times that he plodded through life not getting proper recognition or praise when he actually deserved it.

Rolling over, I touched his arm lightly and he responded immediately, turning towards me.

"What?"

"I saw something today that moved me."

"What was that?"

In the retelling of that particular part of the film, I told him of how it reminded me of him. I said, "I know it isn't always easy for you to be the responsible one. I just want you to know that I appreciate you and I’m proud of you. I love you for everything you have done and continue to do. You could easily give up on everything and walk away, but you don’t. Thank you."

Not saying a word, he reached over and touched my face. I couldn't see his eyes in the dark, but I could feel him looking at me. After what seemed like an eternity, he said, in his usual practical way, "Thank you so much for understanding."

No more needed to be said, except to say goodnight. More words would have cluttered the moment.

I realized I had never really seen him as I saw him right then. My heart burst at the seams with pride for him. That picture of him has stuck with me. He is absolutely the best man I have ever known. He has taught me so much just by his life and the way he lives it.

The electricity went off long enough for me to slow down and really see this man who lay next to me night after night.