Aftermath

So the dinner with my parents, Chris’s parents, Chris, and even my aunt happened last night. From what Chris and his parents said, it was a “lovely” and “enjoyable” evening getting to know each other over some great food. Chris said all the predictable things happened in terms of topics of discussion and gift exchange, and I wondered what my mother would have to say about all this after I left work today.

So I called her, and one of the first things she says to me is, “Have you talked to Chris’s parents?” I told her that they texted me to say it was a fun evening. “Did they say anything? What did they say? Did they say anything about me or your father? Anything about how nice we are?” And so it goes. My mother is interrogating me because she was expecting Chris’s parents to write a full detailed report on the evening, how it played out, and most importantly, what they thought of my parents as people and as future parents-in-law to their precious first born. I felt tired hearing all the questions coming out of her mouth. No, they didn’t tell me lots of details. All they did was text me a simple line to let me know dinner was great! Why is this so hard to believe? I’m not withholding any information!

As Chris and I know, all of these questions and comments are coming out of my mom’s insecurity and lack of confidence. She is just so eager to be praised and to be told that she is, in fact, worthy.

So at the end of the conversation, my mom says that she thanks God that I am able to marry a boy who comes from such a good family. “It’s Jehovah’s blessing,” she said calmly.

She’s right. Well, sort of. It is a blessing from God. It’s a blessing from God that I am not marrying into a family anywhere in the universe of dysfunction as my own. It’s also a blessing that I am marrying a boy who is even willing to arrange a “meet the parents” dinner without my presence. As my friend told me the other day, “You’re really lucky with Chris because if that were me, I’d be outta there.” This boy of mine clearly has balls.

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