To Know and be Known

You don’t know what you don’t know.

Growing up, I knew these two people only as parents. I watched them work, struggle, argue, forgive, build, provide, and love in the ways that I assumed were true for all parents.

I knew they had run away to the Little White Chapel in Vegas in their early twenties to marry, the champagne toast done with Styrofoam cups. Barely adults, they had a limited perspective on what life could be or what they wanted it to be.

I knew they had divorced when I was two years old, but found their way back to each other again and again with pure motives over the next ten or so years. They had nothing in common outside of one little curly-haired girl and the desire to do right by her. But that wasn’t enough to make a healthy relationship work.

They didn’t know what they didn’t know.

Yesterday God afforded us a day together, the first since I literally can’t remember when. We sat in a diner for over four hours and laughed more than I’ve laughed in a long time. Among the laughter were tears and the most beautiful, humble honesty as we trudged together through remembering some really hard stuff. We shared things we never had. Each of us learned things we never knew about the others. During the conversation, that table in a mostly empty restaurant became the safest place my heart has known.

Today I’m honored to know these two people as humans. Having done my own share of working, struggling, arguing, forgiving, building, providing, and loving in the ways I thought were best, I understand them at a deeper level. I relate to the experience of limited perspective and living the consequences of my choices.

I still don’t know what I don’t know. But I consider myself very fortunate to have never doubted how loved I am.

Mom and Dad, you have my heart for always. Thank you for holding it with care.