Jamaica is an amazing tropical paradise. The high temperatures on the northern beaches are consistent year round at about 80 degrees Fahrenheit. It is the third largest Caribbean island at just over 4200 square miles: 146 miles long by 51 miles wide. For comparison, Connecticut is the third smallest state in the U.S. at 4845 square miles, but is larger than the island nation of Jamaica. Jamaica has gorgeous white sand beaches on its northern shores, is totally surrounded by the Caribbean Sea, and also has seven mountain ranges including Blue Mountain Peak at 7402’ from which we get the world’s best and best-known single origin coffee in the world. Montego Bay, Jamaica, is a little over 500 miles from Miami, Florida – just a quick 40-minute flight away. The island also has lush rainforests, over 120 rivers with breathtaking waterfalls, and some of its native produce includes avocados, bananas, spices, and limes.

It’s no wonder that spending a week in Jamaica got us to thinking about what it would be like to become expatriates at some indeterminate time in the future and relocate to this gorgeous, relaxed island nation. Two days past my last morning waking up in Jamaica, I was again thinking about what it would be like to migrate there someday.

My thoughts gravitated towards the fact that no one there would know that my twins used to be girls, unless I told them. I was imagining how I would decorate my home. Would I have photos of the family up? In my home currently, I removed all the photos of anyone but my husband and me. Then I thought that maybe I could display photos of them as babies and toddlers, if I chose pictures that didn’t specifically reflect their gender as children. In my stream of consciousness, the next thought was that I would want people to know the whole story, not just the curated one that I might wish to tell, nor the individual stories my twins would prefer.

That’s when the epiphany came.

When I conclude writing this blog at the end of one year, I intend to put to rest this part of my journey. I want to find a settled place from which to live out my story with my children, my community, and the larger world. My epiphany was a moment of insight reminding me that the story will not end at that time, but rather it will continue to evolve over many years to come.

We will need to have conversations about how my twins view their growing up years – the only ones that I will have experienced on a daily, first-hand basis. We will need to address how to tell that part of their stories so that we don’t lose our family’s foundational history of relationship with one another. I will need to reconcile with the stories they continue to create and tell in their independent lives. They will need to come to terms with their history and its import and value to them, to me, and to the extended family and long-time friends who’ve been there through so many of those storied years.

I cannot force the unfolding of the story. I must accept this moment in time. I am learning by leaps and bounds what it means to be uncertain, but to begin to be okay at the same time. I have a vision of a time many years in the future when our twins, along with my husband and me, bring to fruition a holistic, unified family dynamic that respects each of our stories and speaks to something bigger than any of us can address individually.

We are creatures whose main need beyond food, water, and shelter is relationship. Family is the default for foundational relationships, and we can either embrace it or reject it. Some family ties deserve to be severed due to neglect, abuse, or extreme selfishness, but that is not the intent. Families do their best work when they stick together in spite of challenges, differences, or hurts sustained through the intricacies of life.

My future vision is still hazy, but I see brokenness being repaired, and beauty and usefulness being restored out of something splintered and painful. Just like a person’s potential is fully present from the very moment of conception, all of the components of love and wholeness are already inherently available within our family. When we can each come together from a place of fullness, we will see healthfulness evolve and grow. This is something that cannot be taught or manufactured. It must just be lived out. Only time will tell how it looks in full color.

In the meantime, I’ll dream of the verdant mountains and cerulean waters of Jamaica. Yah, mon.