I haven’t written in awhile, primarily because a lot has happened in my personal life this past year and I’ve barely found time to even process it all myself. Being an internal processor also means that it’s often hard for me to find the right kinds of words to express the complexities of what I feel within, and sometimes I give up before even trying.
This season has come with unbelievable blessings and challenges. There has been so, so much to be thankful for (more on that in a future post). But today, on this Thanksgiving, I am particularly thinking about my family.
I decided to come home for Thanksgiving this year despite the hefty price tag, realizing that it might be the very last time I come home before planting the seeds of my own, new home. I’m feeling super bittersweet, yet thankful for how the past few years have really changed my relationship with my family.
Covid was what brought us together. In May 2020, I flew back to Texas after realizing that the pandemic wasn’t a simple “6-week long” endeavor, figuring that I would have more breathing space and company at home. But what I got from my months-long stay was the chance to work through and heal some childhood wounds I had experienced from my (loving yet imperfect) parents. And since then, coming home has been so sweet. I recognize how little time I have to spend with my parents now, and even less as both they and I move onto the next thing in life. Knowing that time together is so rare now, I cling to every precious moment: fun conversations around the dinner table, reflections and prayer time, walks around our sleepy neighborhood.
I thank God that my parents and grandparents are all alive and healthy, and that I have a good relationship with all of them, knowing how much of a rare privilege it is. I am so thankful for how they have raised me to become the woman I am today, and how they have supported me throughout my life to this point, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse.
Soon, I will have somewhere new to come home to. If I’m to be honest, I’m a bit anxious. I am stepping into marriage with many additional unknowns, one of which is my physical home. Sometimes, I feel jealous of my other recently-married friends who are blissfully settling down, buying their long-term furnishings, and planting social roots in their city of choice. While I have never been one to define home as a location, the shift of persons—from parents to partner—along with place is significant, and something I’ve never experienced before.
You are like home to me, were the words I wrote to Ethan when we first started dating.
I’m ready to come home; when I gave him the green light to propose.
The foundation of a home is trust. And so we build our home in the unknown, but together. And for that too, I am thankful.