Family Expectations

Love these guys!

I have a lot of frustration with family relationships. Everybody's probably got some of those; mine are centered in unrealistic expectations. The older I get, the more I realize I need to let those expectations go, and just accept all the good things that come with being a family. One of my troubles has always been understanding where I fit in and what my role in the family is. When I saw the film Dan in Real Life for the first time, I saw portrayed in Dan's character what I perceive to be my role in this family. And for the first time, I was sort of okay with that role—as awkward and uncomfortable as it is, it kind of made sense how I fit.

Last Saturday I was brought down to one of my lowest-of-low points, when my physical pain was so bad it literally made me sob uncontrollably for hours at a time. I was alone, and driving brought me so much pain that I couldn't bear the thought of going anywhere to be with people. It was a busy weekend for most people—lots of family activities for lots of families—and it got me thinking about my relationship with my family.

And these guys!

 As I cried, I thought about those people to whom I'm bound, for better or for worse, and what they had brought into my life. The thought occurred to me that I hadn't really filled them in on my physical status, so how could I expect support if they didn't even know I needed it? I’m so independent (and always have been—or at least since about age 12) from my family that they are used to me handling things on my own. I take that as a compliment, because I prize my independence and subsequent ability to care for myself as one of my most valuable traits. But that sometimes comes at a price, when I unknowingly keep at bay the very people who have the ability to love me unconditionally when I am my most unlovable self. Amidst my reverie on independence, I also realized that I come from a strong, faithful group of Christians who would all be observing the religious worship practice of a monthly fast day that Sunday. So I decided to reach out, through technology, and ask them to fast and pray to God for a miracle of healing in my behalf.

And this gal!

The timing, although late at night, was perfect. Within minutes I ended up on the phone with my brother who was keeping very late hours and happened to see my message. And although they’re two time zones ahead, I also received an immediate ping back from my sister and my nieces, who were up exceptionally late with a different family crisis. I was grateful to be instantly connected so that I could learn of my niece's challenge and add my prayers to her family's in search of comfort, understanding, and forgiveness. As a family we were instantaneously connected across the miles and across generations.

I love all ten of my nieces and nephews (and the eleventh on his way), and I'm especially concerned with my three adult nieces. I guess part of that is because they were born when I was still a kid, myself; I didn't love it at the time, but now I'm thankful that my sister married, had babies, and brought them home for long visits when I was still a teenager. All my teenage and early adult memories are somehow linked to milestones in my nieces' young lives. Now that they're adults, my heart breaks when theirs do and I pray for and worry about their happiness. Perhaps I worry just a little because I know how rough it is to be a young single woman and to be a married woman, and I want only the best parts of both of those worlds for them. I won't say I love them like my own, because I don't know what it's like to love my own children. But I love them like I've never loved kids before, and that's one of the greatest joys of being family.

Then the other day I got a packet of personalized watercolor paintings from a much younger niece. No letter, nothing from the parents, just five adorable pictures from one sweet little girl who became my hiking buddy last Christmas. And I realized, as much as I love the older girls, there are seven more younger boys and girls (and one little guy who will be here any day now) who I will continue to get to know over the years and who will continue to capture my heart in new and quirky ways.

So I'm thinking about resetting my family expectations. Instead of worrying about what hasn't happened, I'll worry about what I can make happen: what connections I can make, what friendships I can make, what commitments I can make—to be there when they need me, to be there when it matters, to be an example for more generations, to be a real family.