“The problem with the world is that we draw the circle of our family too small.” Mother Teresa
The first time I met Ruth Samuelson it was in her home. We were new to Charlotte, visiting churches and ended up after the service at a church-wide pot luck hosted in the Samuelson’s rambling ranch. The September day was bright and warm and after making connections with folks in line, we spilled out onto the front lawn to eat. I don’t remember what was on our plate, who we sat with, or much of the conversation from that day; but my heart was firmly imprinted by the hospitality of the host and her family.
We eventually joined the church and for two years while we worshipped on Sunday, I watched the Samuelson family grow. Their "self-appointed" pew smack dab in the middle of the sanctuary expanded from their family of five (2 teenaged biological sons and an adopted daughter from Chile) to 6 and 7 as foster children and a newly adopted son came into their lives. Stories about their basement apartment, which hosted families from the nearby seminary and families in need of short term housing, starting filtering through the congregation. There seemed to be no end to their generous spirit of hospitality. It trickled into every facet of their lives.
After two years, we moved on from Uptown Church to plant a new church in a new part of Charlotte, but we stayed closely “related” to the Samuelson clan. My two were born in rapid succession and soon, Joy the Samuelson's daughter, now a mother herself, came to spend time in our home bringing along her son, Evan. With challenges to face in this season of her life, Joy became intricately linked to our family. She was not just a babysitter to Jack and Mae, she was a surrogate parent. They were loved honestly and disciplined consistently. The circle of our family began to grow.
We longed for more children of our own, more little bodies around our big kitchen table, but God had different plans for us. In 2011, we began to host post-college graduates in our guest room through the Charlotte Fellows program. Each of these young adults, participated fully in the mess and the joy of our lives. Each year, I saw our pew grow with men and women who worshipped alongside my two children. They became family. And I would not have been nudged into this space of unlimited hospitality if it were not for the quiet testimony of the Samuelson family – a family that knew few boundaries and did not define itself by bloodlines.
Almost three weeks ago, I had the rare privilege to spend the afternoon with Ruth and her family in their home one last time. In a day of reprieve from the ravages of the cancer which would take her life 10 short days later, I was invited in to record some of her last moments of lucidity. All of her children sat around her, grandchildren crawling willy-nilly on her lap. And they shared silly memories and laughed and held hands and smiled. I didn’t feel like a passive observer hiding behind a camera. Their circle widened, inviting me in, an honorary Samuelson for an afternoon.
"Our tree grows, its branches jutting out at odd angles. If given a thousand tries, I couldn't have come up with something as perfect as us." Falling Free, Shannan Martin