My Big Fat Texas Hangover

There was music and dancing and bowling and shopping fueled by fajitas and brisket and breakfast burritos the size of your forearm. As my husband, daughter, and I laughed with friends and dined on Tex-Mex, we made wonderful memories. After the fifteen-hour drive back to Mokena with baby Alex, we are exhausted, but happy.

It was a wedding that took us to Texas where the Army rooted us for eight years near Fort Hood. We have no relatives there but we have family. We spent every holiday from Easter to Christmas with the Knicelys. John, Linda, Laura, and Josh. There were feasts, fireworks, water balloons, and handmade confetti eggs to smash on whomever we could catch.

As summer approaches, maybe you dread the cookouts and celebrations. It saddens me  that some of us go to family functions out of obligation and can’t wait to leave.

I get it. Relationships are messy. Especially the ones we were born into because they have the most potential to hurt us.

Some wounds are legit and go deep. However, a lot of family conflict is petty. It’s often fueled by personality differences or something that started in childhood sibling rivalry. But, we’re grown-ups now. Think back to where the resentment started. Is it really worth wasting another holiday?

A friend tells me, bitterness is “like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” Why do we give someone the power to control our attitude? As Kimberly “Sweet Brown” Wilkins says, “Ain’t nobody got time for that.”

We can’t wait for others to change. We are only responsible for ourselves. Romans 12:18 tells us, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”

Perhaps, we’ve been the jerk and need to apologize. It may not be accepted, but knowing we did our part, we are free of guilt. As for those who offend us, we forgive. That doesn’t mean what they did was okay, it simply means we want to be free of bitterness.

Maybe you’re thinking, You don’t know my family. That’s true. But, I know about hurt and dysfunction and how un-forgiveness robs us of life and peace.

Last month, a friend of mine died only four weeks after a terminal diagnosis. At her memorial service, her husband reminded us, “Don’t take family for granted. Tell them what you appreciate about them while you can.”

Life’s too short, my friends. Let’s choose well the memories we make. Hug ‘em while ya got ‘em, ya’ll, and pass the guacamole. I’m fixin’ to continue my big, fat Texas hangover.

 

Photo by Jessica Marie Melvin