Tribes

My darling niece is getting married tomorrow.

It’s still dark outside, unseasonably cold for Georgia this time of year. I’m sitting here in my sister-in-law’s house, having invited myself a couple days early to help out with the last minute details. And they love me enough to let me.

The bride is asleep at the end of the hall, her younger sister, the maid of honor asleep next to her, as I have commandeered her room. (Thank you, Claire!) The house is quiet, the final calm before the storm.

But it’s the best kind of storm.

The house will be a flurry of activity within a matter of minutes. My nephew, Noah still has to go to school. Seven bridesmaids are coming over here for lunch and crashing here for the night. A few more pickups and deliveries need to be made in there somewhere and it’ll be time for the rehearsal before we know it.

Last summer, the NASA’s Hubble Telescope discovered that the universe is expanding even faster than expected. I could say the same thing about my concept of family.

About six and a half years ago, Brad and I got married and my family instantly expanded. Each of Brad’s siblings has three amazing kids and suddenly I was something I had never been before: Aunt Lindsey (Aunt Winzee to the youngest).

Brad’s family absorbed Caroline and me seamlessly and enthusiastically. But you know, I played it cool and give it some time before I warmed up to all of them.

Yeah, right. You guys know me better than that.

I jumped in with both feet and never looked back. They were my family now and whether I knew them yet or not didn’t matter (to them or to me). That was just a detail that would work itself out over time.

They didn’t have to earn my love or their place in my heart. I made up my mind that they were family. And that was that.

And as I’ve mentioned before, I had no idea how to be a stepmom. But I knew how to be a mom. And as soon as that engagement ring was on my finger, I decided that I would love Beau and Sydney as my own. They didn’t have to earn it or deserve it. The decision was made. The feelings would follow.

And the kids never bothered with the ‘step’ preface. They considered each other true siblings from day one. Last year, Beau informed me, “I don’t even say ‘step’ anymore. Is that okay? It just feels stupid.”

I grinned and replied. “Yes, that is completely okay, bud.” And honestly, I agreed. I never said ‘step’ unless it was for clarification purposes. In everyday conversation, I have a son and two daughters.

And Caroline’s world was totally rocked. She was not quite four when Brad and I got married and suddenly she went from being a loner to having two siblings and six cousins. (I remember her pulling me aside one day on the way to see extended family and saying, “Hey mom. What’s a ‘cousin’?”)

There is a yearly family vacation with the whole crew, with more add-ons in the mix. As the kids got older they started bringing dates and friends. And true to the family culture, they were treated just like any other son, daughter, niece, nephew, cousin or grandkid.

And I’m sure the groom has realized by now that the ink drying on the marriage license is just a formality. He’s already been completely sucked in, for better or worse.

And for the record, I think it’s better.

I think about the growing pains and ups and downs of marriage the newlyweds will inevitably face after the honeymoon. Nobody ever tells Real Life to go easy on married couples. And there’s no need to panic as the feelings wax and wane. The decision was made and the promise will be kept regardless.

It’s been an honor to be included in the past couple hectic days. And when I say ‘included,’ I don’t mean being treated like a guest in the house who needs to be entertained. I have been invited all the way in, to the place of washing dishes, folding laundry and cleaning up dog puke.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

You see, impressiveness is the mortal enemy of true connection. If you impress someone, they revere you, even if it’s just slightly and distance is created. And any chance of real connection is (best case scenario) delayed or (worst case scenario) destroyed.

You don’t connect with someone via perfection and competition. Just the opposite, you bond over the mess of Real Life.

I have to go back to the most well-known part of the Velveteen Rabbit:

‘Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’

‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.

‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.’

‘Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’

‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.’

This passage can be used to describe many things and it absolutely nails the requirements of connection:

1. It’s a risk. When it’s real, it’s gonna hurt at some point. And if it doesn’t, I would venture to say the relationship hasn’t gotten real yet. People are flawed and pain is inevitable. But going in with the right attitude means walking into it with grace, forgiveness and benefit of the doubt on a hair trigger.

2. It’s not for the faint of heart. If you’re fragile and easily offended, real connection will be difficult, if not impossible, in your relationships. At the same time, being guarded and hardening your heart is not the answer. Our hearts must remain soft, pliable and resilient.

3. People won’t always get it. It may seem reckless and unwise to open your arms and your homes to as many people as possible. And certainly that is their prerogative. But I have always wanted a messy house full of people coming and going, invited and uninvited, expected and unannounced, knowing where the cups are, helping themselves to a drink and plopping down on the couch. Having a large tribe cushions the blows of Real Life. And when things inevitably get sideways with some, there are others to turn to while the friction is resolved and healed.

The policy I’ve always lived by, since I’ve been out on my own has been, “I’ll clean up for you one time. After that, you’re family.” That applies to the house, my person, my life. Once you’ve gotten the best first impression I can muster up, the rest is a crap shoot. You may show up on a day when the house is relatively clean and I’ve had a shower and put on makeup. Or you may not. Good luck to you.

But my tribe doesn’t mind. They know the couch is comfortable, the drinks (and occasionally snacks) are plentiful and the conversation is life giving. They show up and leave feeling safe, welcomed and loved. (Drop mic.)

And this week, my family has trusted me with their Real Life. And that honors me at a heart level that could never be reached by a fancy guest room. They trusted that I wasn’t coming as a guest to be entertained or impressed (in which case, I totally wouldn’t have come), but I was coming to work, to share the load with my tribe. And nothing communicates more love and acceptance than when I am trusted when the holy mess of someone else’s life. (So if I trust you with mine, you’re welcome.)

Tomorrow afternoon during the ceremony, two people will become one. And tomorrow night at the reception, two tribes will be dancing together on the dance floor and whether you’re a friend of the bride or the groom won’t matter at all. The lines will blur and everyone will celebrate their ever-expanding tribe.

So be it and amen.

Welcome to the tribe, Jonathan.