We Are Seven

I'm the middle child of seven, perfectly balanced between two older and two younger brothers, an older sister and a younger sister.  I admire each brother and sister for their varied talents and have always been proud of them, but never more so than at the calling hours for our Dad.  We stood for over four hours, visiting with the people who cared enough to form that long line in order to share stories and sympathy.  To my left, I overheard people who hadn't yet reached me talking with my older siblings, who would announce themselves as "Number 1," "Number 2," and "Number 3," and to my right I heard "Number 5," "Number 6," and "Number 7" talk with those who'd already passed by.

During the funeral ceremony the following day, a space was left open for people to share thoughts and memories of Dad.  After all seven children spoke, a few others came to the front to speak, and I was touched by what my sister(in-law)'s dad shared.  He spoke about meeting Pete and, because of Pete's intelligence and overall fine respectability (way to go, trickster!), his assumption that Dad was a wealthy, accomplished man. Then he came to visit my parents for the first time, in their little, yellow house in which they raised seven children, while forgoing luxuries for greater things. Poof!  It was obvious that Dad's lifestyle wasn't that of a wealthy man.  Sarah's dad, who through talent, hard work, and God's hand, has become a wealthy and accomplished man, looked at us and ended his reflection with the simple statements, "Gary was a rich man. I'm jealous."

 

When I was a college senior, stuck in Houghton student-teaching while many of my friends adventured abroad, I wrote John a letter in which I shared an epiphany.  That day, the teacher with whom I was paired had told me that the Latin root "com" meant "with/together" and "fort" meant "strength."  I was struck straight to the heart.  Comfort.  Com:fort.  I had always viewed comfort as an act of consolation when in truth comfort is an act of strengthening someone. 

 

It was a great comfort to stand shoulder to shoulder in shared grief and laughter with some of the people I most admire, to gain strength from them and to strengthen them, together.  I am honored to be one of the seven Johnson kids, and I am proud of the good people they've married, with whom I also stand shoulder to shoulder.

Mopsy has always joked that she grew us all big so that we could carry her from room to room when she gets old, and that night was the first time I felt her words, so light before, take form in a heavier reality.  We all carry one another, really, when walking seems too hard.  Com:fort.

*Thanks to Mrs. Doak for these pictures from her phone.