My family is coming for dinner tonight. Every time I've talked to them since Father's Day (was that really the last time I was there?) they've been asking when I was coming to see them again. I reminded them that they can come to see me, too so that is what is going on tonight. Me cooking dinner for them is a trade-off for the long, treacherous drive from Tuscaloosa. I think my parents are still surprised by the fact that I can actually cook edible meals.
I started planning the meal last Thursday, picking through recipes until I got the pairing that I was looking for. Something to please the likes and dislikes of each family member, which is no small task. No fish or shrimp for Mom (which are two of my favorite things to cook these days), nothing with mayonnaise or black beans for Nathan, something meaty for Dad. I spent $100 dollars at the grocery store yesterday on groceries for Bonnie and I for the week, but a large chunk of it was for tonight (maybe the recipes will show up on the recipe blog later this week).
After all these years, I still desire to please them. Maybe not in everything ... I have done a lot of things that they haven't approved of since I started college. Some they know about, some they don't. Actually, the college that I chose was the beginning of the quasi-rebellion. But there is still a nagging desire for them to respect me as an adult, while at the same time loving their little girl.
I was up at 5:30 this morning making brownies, dusting furniture, and mopping the stupid kitchen floor. I hate that floor. I could mop that linoleum five times a day and it would still look disgusting. I wondered why I cared so much. I mean, this is my family. They love me clean house or not, right? So why was I so furioulsy scrubbing the floor, and making sure that everything was in place? Because I want their approval. It's something I've been after for a long time. But they are not the only place I'm looking for that love and approval. I just want it from somewhere. Anywhere.
The voice of past experience tells me where to find it, but somehow that is no comfort. That life, that experience, seems like it never happened. I hold a small, leather-bound book in my hands that once held such dear and familiar words, and now it is like a stranger to me. Or more like an old friend I haven't spoken to in so long that now I'm awkward and ashamed. I wonder if I'll ever really believe.
4 comments:
I know what you mean about family expectations. I lived like a pig all year long last year in my apartment on campus, and I cleaned like a maid for hire when my parents came to visit for graduation. The only I didnt do was stock up the fridge with real groceries. but hey mom was impressed that i didnt live like I did when I was at home with her...muahahaha. :)
Is the leather-bound book your journal? Bible?
You're on the cusp of something. I really believe that you're taking a step toward greater freedom by giving voice to these thoughts. Don't give up.
Su.
What you've mentioned is a struggle that I've took more notice of recently. Today, I even heard something about someone very close to me that shock me when i heard it.
I think some of my own struggles in my family relationships stem from me not accepting God's love for me with all my shortcomings and quirks, but lately he seems to be showing me that in allowing him to love me has been the healthiest thing in my own life and in the relationships i find myself in.
p.s. i understand wanting to be accepted by your family, personally, i've felt like the oddball for a long time, but then again, i guess we are all odd balls, just some of us might be aware of it and have learn to laugh about it....
p.s.s. glad to hear your cookin it up, i love food!
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