On my mom’s side, I am the oldest grandchild, and I am her oldest child.  Yet, I am not typically the one who has the forethought and whatever-else-it-takes-that-eludes-me to plan and execute a family event for such a thing as a major holiday gathering.  I used to wonder why.  I’m pretty sure I’ve figured it out.  I get overwhelmed.  I feel disappointed.  I want things to be something they’re not.  Which doesn’t make them bad.  It just lies in the gap between my expectations and reality.

What does that mean?  I can’t say that I know for sure.  I’m sure the way it is is the way it always was for me growing up.  A dash of mass chaos, a handful of hope and a generous helping of tradition and love.

My cousin – who, incidentally, is the next-to-youngest grandchild – is a great planner.  She initiated the family holiday get-together, and she finds comfort in our decades-old traditions.  Those traditions are quite difficult to carry forth these days because there are so many extended families and children and schedules and obligations.  But, we were able to get together last night, have a nice dinner at a restaurant and then go to her home to chill, watch some high school football playoffs and open some gifts.

While we were at the restaurant – a large, popular one in the area – we occupied multiple tables lined up banquet-style together, we ordered, and we conversed as best we could . . . in clusters.  I was sitting at the kid-end so I couldn’t hear much of the adults’ conversations . . . or much of anything at all.  I found myself completed overloaded with all of the noise and clanging and voices and activity around me, and I feel like I “went away” for a while, like a turtle would, just to be able to keep sitting there.

Earlier in the evening, I had learned that my cousin and her husband are taking a holiday trip to Italy.  At first, I felt a bit jealous.  Not just because I love Italy but rather because I felt like I could not see past my current situation to a day when I will be able to resume foreign travel, to show my son all that is amazing and exciting about immersing oneself in others’ cultures.  I work in a field that has a fairly obvious and seemingly impenetrable glass ceiling when it comes to earnings possibilities.  I can look at the current salary schedule for school counselors in my district, and it clearly states to me that even if I work another 15 years, I will still not make more than $70,495 per year.  I love my job, and I hope to do it (or something like it) for a very long time.  But, at times like last night, it feels a little restrictive.  I was talking to my cousin’s wife last night who does similar work, and I mentioned that I really have no idea what it would look like if something happened to my (12-year-old) car, and I had to buy something else.  Disposable income – that is what seems to feel like it’s missing.  I am working on paying down some debt – I don’t have a lot, but the gruesome reality of my graduate school student loan rears its ugly head each month.  And will for the next 240 months at least.  I don’t know how all of these topics flew through my mind while waiting for a bowl of lobster bisque last night, but they surely did.  And I allowed it.  I could have ordered a cocktail and dissipated some of the discomfort, but I consciously chose not to do so – I’m trying to allow myself to be more vulnerable, even when doing so provokes all manner of annoying thoughts and feelings.  No numbing allowed.

After a short while, I realized that there were emotions welling up in me that I had to take a few moments to identify and experience.  I was struck by the fact that everyone at the table, except for me and my mother, were there as part of a couple.  I am not often aware of my single-ness like that, probably because I don’t traffic much socially these days.  It took my breath a little, and it tried to take me to a sad, dark place, but I kept my awareness up, and I thought of some things for which I am grateful – I believe I successfully defended myself against being completely subsumed by those troubling thoughts, but I won’t lie – I did have to fight back some tears.  Mostly because I did not want to darken everyone else’s experience or be certain that anyone was feeling pity for me.  If there had been a balcony to go stand on at that moment so that I could have stared at the almost-full moon for a few minutes or maybe even engaged in some escapist conversation with a total stranger, I am certain I would have found my way to it.  But there was not, and I just sat there, marinating in all that was making me uncomfortable.

And I survived.

All of the feelings that came over me were clearly rising from a place of fear and not love, and according to some reading I have been doing lately, those are the only two emotions that exist – and every feeling we could ever feel stem from either one or the other.  It makes sense if you take a solid moment to really absorb that truth.  There I was, surrounded by people who love me and each other, and the devil himself worked really hard to intrude on my time with my family and lure me down the dark path to filtering out all that is good in my life.  I resisted.  Well, with God’s help, I resisted.  Okay.  I didn’t do much at all.  I just allowed Him to defend me.

The good news is that all that was going on inside of me did not derail the fun and silliness of the evening – those are a given at most family gatherings – and for the first time in years, I was able to give a little gift to each family there and deliver a few small treats to each of the little ones.  That felt good – I’m glad we were together.

Today, the boy and I are driving to Central Texas to see a college-mate (or two or three) and her family, and I could not be more excited.  We have absolutely nothing planned – that I know of – and that is A-OK with me.  Hanging out with one or two of my many “ride-or-die” folks will fill my heart and soul, and will probably feel a whole lot like I was able to go to a whole ‘nother country!