I was light lecturing my sons about how safe and secure our lives are and how rare that safety is in time and space.
The elder responded, “Yeah, I’m so glad we know Luba and get to hear Granny and Grandad’s stories.”
Luba is a friend who was taken from her family in Russia and sold into American adoption. She was separated even from the brother she was brought here with. I’ve listened intently to her stories, but had no idea my boys were also paying attention.
Their connection with their great grandparents is more intentional on my part. I felt blessed growing up hearing about the Blitzkrieg on London, my grandmother’s evacuation as a child to live with a coal mining family, without her own parents, in the north, and the trouble my grandfather got into breaking curfew and stripping downed German planes. I have been doubly (perhaps nearer quadruply) blessed to hear more stories of bomb shelters and tin can phones stretched over narrow streets, as they are told to my sons.
We spend a fair amount of time gaining perspective through studying history and contemporary events, but none of that hits like hearing humans relate their stories. Committing much of our time to human relationships is an opportunity afforded by our learning lifestyle.