Passing The White-Glove Test

I mentioned to you earlier that my parents will visit us for the first time since we moved to New York in 1993. I'm surprised I've not written more often about this huge event because, for four months, it's been the utmost thing on my mind.

If you've followed this blog very long, you may have noticed the absence of words written about my parents. I guess that's because I have one of those awkward relationships with them which so many people have.

Rather than describe it or rehash the past, I'll just tell you what I am thinking now. For these past months it's been on my mind to fix up our house so beautifully that perhaps, finally, my parents will get the message that Tom and I are all grown-up. I want them to look around at our home and our things and think, "Hmm.. it appears they've made a very good life for themselves out here in this state where we've always thought they should never have moved."

I want them to finally get it that I am no longer 17 and an emotional yo-yo. (During our last visit, I couldn't believe how often my mother brought up how I felt about things at 17 and even younger. Sigh. )

If only they'd view me as the 46 year-old-woman that I am. If only they could see that these 12 years living thousands of miles away, have been the most life-changing, incredible years of my total existence.

Oh, we talk on the phone and email and have flown out there to visit them. But this upcoming visit of theirs--that will be the biggest test and I'm trying not to feel as though they're coming to examine this life which we have created for ourselves.

But already, I see the flaws of my careful plans. I could parade before their eyes everything wonderful about my home and town, yet still, there's no promise they'll appreciate it as I do. That is because, basically, we are as different in our likes and loves as the proverbial night and day. Always, our treasures have resided at opposite poles. 

So what it boils down to is this: I need to cut it out. All of this. All of the fixing,painting and rearranging with my parents in mind. I need to return to my earlier mindset of making a cozy home for Tom and me and for Naomi when she visits. This is not my parents' house. Tom and I love our home (most days) which comes in handy since we're the ones who have to live here. Or rather, who get to live here.

And we believe moving to New York was the best thing we ever did.

And more--we love the people who we have become while living in this state so far away. We took a different turn than the one my parents wanted us to make and we discovered, around the bend, something more marvelous than we'd dreamed.

God had to take us to a faraway place in order to finally change what needed to be changed within us. That's the way we see and understand it to be--and we'll always be grateful.

And that's what matters most.



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