Heritage

We all come from somewhere, right? This is the foundation from which we are freed into the real world to become who we are, who God made us to be. I come from a crazy Italian dad and an intelligent, loving, beautiful, not crazy mother. The crazy Italian has earned every letter of this name over the 30 something years I have known him. His accent is thicker than glue. He has always been hyper- everything. Addicted to organization. Meticulously preserving clothing from 1985. Always dramatic, demonstrative, exaggerative…you get the idea. He is the man who shows up with literally 10 pieces of luggage for a 2 night stay. He will only purchase about 6 different brands of food…and this has never changed. He’s got you DelMonte, Heineken, shwepps, and Ritz crackers. You would think he owns stock or something. My dad gets mad about everything, has a severe mild temper issue. He doesn’t know the names or birthdates of any of my children. He calls Brayden Brandon, Weston Chester, or if it’s a good day-Winston, Halle is of course Holly, well, he clarifies it with Molly or Holly? Right on Dad. Oh and by the way, we talk, (he talks), every week. He is most definitely from a different planet. He has always loved me and He is also the man who taught me everything I need to know about how to make some mean bolognese and how to shove someone’s nose into their brain, in self defense of course. He also taught me average intelligence as he calls it. Basically, the correct or more effective way to do things. As I look back at it all, there is not one single thing about him that is average. Especially not his intelligence. I reflect on the countless things he has said or explained, and I have come to believe the crazy Italian is in fact, very intelligent. He loves animals. Cat’s especially. Nobody ever talks about the cat ‘man’. Let me tell you, he exists. If it was between his finger or the cat, he would give his finger.

And then there is mama bird. She is kind. Always loving. Always caring for myself, family, friends, her parents…she never fails to make others the priority. She is graceful, polite, fancy, and always ready to dig in and get it done. She makes no excuses, and raised me without holding the reins too tight.

I truthfully am not brave enough to tally up the who-wins-the-highest-number-of-character-traits-passed-down-contest, but I do believe I am a little bit more my dad than I want to confess. I am crazy. I can’t eat normal, I teach my kids every bad thing that could happen, so ‘Be careful’! I realize I do actually know the right way things should be done 95% of the time. Every once and a while I fall from grace and do a stupid, but hey. I am human. I fight anger when I don’t get my way….and I am brand loyal. {cringe}

What sparked this post was my husbands grandparents 60th, yes 60TH! wedding anniversary. I am doing a little craft for them, and in it, every child, grandchild, great grandchild will be on their own leaf/ branch on the tree. Reflecting back on what makes me, me, I realize how impacted and shaped I am by my parents, my grandparents, and the bonds and characteristics we all share. What a beautiful gift parents and grandparents are…not simply for what they teach us, or what beneficial habits or personality quirks we inherit, but for the blessing in calling them ours. God uses them powerfully to mold us into us.