Family Gatherings

Sometimes, topics are brought to me courtesy of friends.  Such friends shall remain faceless and nameless, but their topics are so timeless and universal that I just have to ask God for a word where I don't have an adequate one.

Below is my personal take, mixed with God's response to my questioning, on "Hosting Family at the Holidays".
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Hosting over the holidays can be such a rewarding experience.  There really isn't any better feeling than gussying up the house, lighting pretty candles, finding the perfect music, and enjoying a home cooked meal.

And, if it stopped right there, it would be okie-dokie for all of us.  We'd sit down with our family, whose faults and lives and quirks are in our face on a daily basis and we'd eat until we all needed a nap.  And it would be good.

But, sometimes there are people in your family whom you feel obligated to ask over.  And, sadly, they tend to be the lumps in your otherwise perfect mashed potatoes.

And this is where I admit that I like my holidays clean.  As in fuss-free, easy going, drama-less.  Frankly, there are just some people in my life who end up creating holiday gatherings that mimic bad soap opera plots.

They bring their dirty laundry, past hurts, sense of entitlement, grudges, complaints, and anger and spew them all over the holiday.  In short, they are not even remotely pleasant to have around.

But, as I've thought about the dilema of "invite them" vs. "don't invite them", I've come to a conclusion for my own life:  I am required to invite these people into my life.

I am called to put aside my feelings about who they are as people and co-exist with them.

I am called to be light and salt in their lives, even if they don't seem to want me to be.

At the same time I can confidently write all of this, I equally feel that once or twice a year, near the holidays, isn't necessarily the time I'm called to do these things.  Really, it's an every day sort of calling.

If, on January 1, I began forgiving and pardoning and working to find the little child inside of the grown people who drive me crazy, I could be a long way down the road toward having a happier holiday with these folks come November.

I could actually invite them to sit at a meal with me without having a knot in my stomach from the time the invitation was issued.

I could be the hostess I was meant to be because the hard work of forgiving my guests was done throughout the year.

To say the least, it would be a rare family dinner that resulted in every one forgiving every one else all the things that had been left unsaid the other 364 days of the year.  Forgiveness is a process, not a Hollywood movie that wraps up in two hours with all problems shoved to the side and everyone all huggy and kissy. 

The time between appetizers and desserts isn't when forgiveness takes place because truly forgiving someone is a personal journey bourne out of tons of prayer and tears and self-reflection.  It takes time.  It takes desire.  And it takes more than most people are willing to give.

So, if I desire peace at my Thanksgiving or Christmas tables?  I have eleven months to work on it.  What other people bring to the table, both literally and figuratively, can no longer be my issue.

But, it has to start with me.

And it probably shouldn't start the day before the turkey is cooked or the candy canes are hung in the stocking.

Instead, it should start, on my knees, after Auld Lang Syne is sung.