The Second Family

My upbringing was comfortable with loving parents and a safe home in a safe neighborhood with other kids. I was more than taken care of growing up, and I loved my family. Still though, it is my belief that every teenage girl needs another home, a home away from home -- a place away from familiarity as she's known it to be.

They were that for me. They opened their doors to me and without reserve let me sit at their table and spend the night (even school nights!) at their home. I would sometimes help with dinner and would help clean up after dinner. I was adopted in to this family — though I am sure that in some ways I forced my way in, they never seemed to mind. I was never asked to leave, they never treated me like I was intruding. Except the time that I was actually intruding and asked for a key to their house — that was probably overstepping my bounds just slightly, but it wasn’t 100% my idea either.

Over my high school years, theirs became a second home to me. I ate lunches there, spent half days there. I would go when school was cancelled for weather and we’d spend the day watching movies. I went on little vacations with them. I was there as much as I could be. This family didn’t try to be hospitable, they didn’t try to please me and they never made me feel like a guest — I was an inducted daughter the moment I stepped inside their home, which in my opinion was better than being a guest. I would get in trouble and “talked to” but they would also rejoice with me on good days. I would go there on bad days when boys were mean to me and they would understand and listen. I opened up my heart to them all and never looked back.

The inevitability of teenager angst set in from time to time, and one time in particular, I had a fight with one of the daughters. We didn’t talk for a couple of days and I didn’t want to talk. Perhaps knowing we needed to seek restoration, I went over to their house, her mom turned to us and said, “In this family, we talk.” She walked away, making us face our problems, and teaching me forgiveness and true friendship.

In that house I learned more about being a friend, more about what hospitality actually looks like. I learned about forgiveness and making right decisions. I learned what it looked like to accept someone, regardless of her loud personality and sometimes overbearing ways. More than that, I learned what it felt like to be accepted that way.

I went away to college too many states away, and as a result, I drifted away some. I didn’t get to spend every night there and the friendships changed their shape with time. We are still connected though. I run into the parents on occasion and was still treated with the honor of being their “4th daughter.” I am so thankful for this family that did so much by doing so little. After I left for school, other daughters came along and filled the “4th daughter” shoes. I’m sure they learned just as much as I did. 

I’m thankful for the shared meals and conversations on the kitchen floor and for the movie nights and sleep overs. Because in being there for me in that way, and loving me regardless of my rough edges, they all taught me hospitality. They taught me love.

Some things never change. And while my relationships with this family has ebbed and flowed, I know that whenever I go home, I have another home with them.

Image used under creative commons license courtesy of Yutaka Seki: http://bit.ly/1MC0tPo