It has been a time of reunions and wholeness. There were many fruits from this time of extended quarantine for us. Slowing down, getting creative, being outside a lot, are among the first fruits to come to mind. However, now as we’ve re-connected with so many friends in person, I realize there is also an unnatural weight that has been lifted. A wise friend reminded me this past winter, when that weight felt particularly heavy, that a community or a family is not meant to be a closed circle. There is supposed to be movement in and out of the circle. A community or family is not there solely for themselves. This past year we had all our needs met, were privileged in so many ways, so it was hard to put my finger on just what the problem was, so it was a relief to be reminded that the problem was: we were simply not made to live like this.
We were very fortunate that one of our first reunions was actually a retreat with Con-solatio (the organization that I went to Honduras with). I wondered if it would feel strange being around groups of people again, hugging again, leaning in close at a table to talk. It did not. In fact, beyond feeling completely natural, I also felt filled and whole. I had nearly forgotten that feeling that I first discovered in junior high with camp friends. When we had reunions, they carried pieces of my heart back to me. Throughout the weekend we heard a couple talks. One talk, based on the writings of Luigi Giussani, explained how our identity, or rather our very being, is not an island. I am not just Amy. I am Amy-Jed, Amy-Kaeli, Amy-Margie. These relationships don’t just happen around me, they actually form me and have created me. When I bring my presence to someone, I am not bringing them just myself, but all those who are truly a part of my being. I believe it is this experience I am living now during these times of reunions.
In the Disney movie, Moana, (yes I probably watch more kid movies than grown-up ones these days) there is a beautiful scene in which Moana feels completely lost and abandoned and ready to give up her calling. Her late grandma appears to her and merely asks her, “do you know who you are?” Thoughtfully and methodically, she begins with her calling, she then identifies she is a daughter of her parents, she describes the type of people her ancestors were, and only after pondering how she is a combination of all these things, does she definitively conclude with her name, “I am Moana.” Only while “carrying them all in her heart” is she capable of truly being who she is called to be. In our extremely individualistic culture, we want to believe we can be an independent individual. We want to believe that nothing can define us, other than what we make ourselves become. We believe that what we would create is better than anything that has come before. We try to start everything from scratch- including our identity- as if it were beneath us to receive our being as a gift, as if it were a sign of weakness to allow others to become a part of us. Yet, although, I am unique and there never has been another Amy, most of my identity has been given. I experience profound freedom when I accept that much of my identity is given- my name, my parents, my ancestors, my friendships, faith, culture. I am Amy, but even more, I am Amy-Martin, Amy-Cecilia and on and on and I am grateful for these times of reunion to be made whole again.