Thump-thump, thump-thump… The way my heart was pounding, you would think I was going to my execution instead of spending my first Christmas with my soon-to-be in-laws.
My fiancé, Blake, steered his pickup down the winding country road to his grandparents’ house. I stared outside, my breath fogging the passenger window. Could I do this? I felt so intimidated by these folks. Even dreaming about our spring wedding plans couldn’t settle my mind.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like the Distins were criminals or anything! No, what worried me was just the opposite. They were Christians. That’s right. Christians. But they weren’t the typical churchgoing folks I was used to.
In the two and a half years Blake and I had dated, I’d met his Nana and Papa just a few times, but it was obvious they were the 24-hour-a-day, everyone-in-the-family-is-in-ministry kind of Christians. Blake’s grandfather was even a pastor!
I had no idea what to expect…or, worse, what they would expect of me. Would they question my beliefs? Ask me to pray? Quiz me on Bible verses? It’s not like I was a nonbeliever. But there are believers and then there are believers.
Usually I was superconfident. I was a former BMX (bicycle motocross) champion. “No fear!” That was my motto. I’d challenged and pushed myself all the way to the world-class level by the time I was 16.
I’d acted in high school and local theater, even nailing a scholarship to the New York Conservatory for Dramatic Arts. Insecure was not in my vocabulary. Yet I’d panicked getting ready for this trip. I’d packed and repacked twice.
On my third and last attempt, I threw in my favorite blouse, the black-and-white polka-dotted one that Nana and I had both shown up wearing to Blake’s sister’s graduation. Maybe that was a good sign.
Or…maybe not. Who was I kidding? My family hadn’t gone to church while I was growing up. To me, God was somewhere up there, not up close and personal. I’d never really slowed down to think about him.
Then I met Blake. He was more comfortable in his faith than anyone I’d ever known. He loved the Lord with his whole heart. We’d been dating for about two months when he asked me to join him at church.
Soon we were attending services together every week. It seemed as though the more I opened my heart to God, the more I felt his love for me. And the more my love for Blake deepened.
Still, as a young believer, I was unnerved at the prospect of spending several days with Blake’s very religious family. Lord, I prayed, I’m new at this. I don’t want to disappoint Blake.
As if on cue, Blake’s truck muffler went from a rumble to a growl as he pulled into Nana and Papa’s driveway. There was no turning back now. I got out of the pickup and we walked slowly toward the house. Blake’s grandparents, parents, and aunts, uncles and cousins rushed out.
“Merry Christmas, y’all!” they said. Inside, carols were playing and a mountain of brightly wrapped packages nearly swallowed the Christmas tree. Trays of warm cookies covered every spot on the kitchen counter.
Everyone loaded up on mugs of coffee and plates of goodies. Nana and Papa herded us into the living room to exchange gifts. I tucked myself into the corner of an overstuffed sofa next to Blake, right near the door.
Blake’s grandfather opened the festivities with a prayer and led everyone in a surprisingly reverent rendition of “Happy Birthday” to Jesus. I’d never seen that before.
To cover my nervousness, I did my best impression of Vanna White from Wheel of Fortune with each gift I received, along with a sincere thank-you.
The last present I opened was in an old box. I thought that was kind of odd, but inside was a cute black blazer that would go great with my polka-dotted blouse. I held it up for everyone to see, and a bright yellow apron fell out. They all laughed.
“What’s so funny?” I whispered to Blake.
“Honey, you got the prank box,” he said. “It’s a family tradition. It holds a nice gift and an apron, because the recipient gets blessed with the chore of cleaning up after Christmas dinner.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Then Blake opened his present. It was a second prank gift box! I had to laugh. Clearly the Distins were trying to make me feel included.
My in-law insecurities settled down some. Doing the familiar chores of loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters with Blake made me relax a bit more.
Enough of my confidence returned for me to point out to Blake how much I had in common with his family.
“Obviously, Nana and I both love polka dots, since we own the same blouse,” I said. “Your cousins and I collect forties and fifties music. Your sister and your mom and I are all crazy about dogs. And the guys are totally impressed by my sports knowledge. Do you think I passed the test?”
Before he could answer, Nana walked up. “Jess, let Blake finish the cleanup,” she said. “Come sit with me in the dining room. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
That sounded ominous. Was Nana going to lay out her expectations of me? Had I said something wrong at dinner without realizing it? What if she wanted to break it to me that I really wasn’t right for her grandson?
I followed her to the dining room and took a seat at the table across from her. She handed me something small wrapped in tissue paper. “I want you to have this, Jess,” she said.
I carefully peeled away the paper. Inside was a delicate white hankie, trimmed in ornately crocheted lace. That’s what this was about? A hankie? “It’s lovely,” I said. “Did someone make it?”
“Blake’s great-grandmother Lillian,” Nana said. “She did the ‘fancy work,’ as she called it. She used tissues for her necessities, but always carried her Sunday hankies in her purse. I know she’d have loved for you to carry it on your wedding day.”
I was speechless. If she was passing on something so special, that had to mean…
Then Nana said, “There’s something else I want to tell you.”
I knew it! I braced myself for the criticism, the preaching, whatever it was that Nana was gearing up to say to me.
“Lillian gave me a gift for my wedding day too,” she said.
Now I was really confused.
“Jess, when I met Blake’s grandfather, I was a mess,” Nana said. “Both of my parents were alcoholics, and their kind of life was the only one I knew. I couldn’t bake brownies, but I could mix a cocktail. I knew cuss words, but not the words to a single hymn.”
What? I never, ever would have guessed that from the way Nana was now. “What about Papa’s family? Weren’t you afraid to meet them for the first time?” I asked, fiddling with the hankie.
“Heck, I was terrified!” Nana said. “Papa’s family was so nice, so squeaky clean, so normal. I didn’t think a family like theirs existed except on Leave It to Beaver. I felt so out of place.”
Boy, did I know that feeling!
“Since we lived in a small town, they must’ve known all about my folks. But right from the start, Lillian gave me the gift of acceptance. She took me into the family with open arms.”
“Right away? No questions asked?”
“That’s right,” said Nana. “And over the years, Lillian taught me all she knew about God’s love. She was not only my mother-in-law but my mentor and best friend.”
Nana reached over and squeezed my hand. She didn’t need to say any more. Now I understood the true gift she was giving me—how opening your heart to God lets you love the people he brings into your life with your whole heart too.
Nana and I got up and joined the rest of the family. Our family.
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