That was the first twist—the realization that they didn’t just need my house; they finally understood the value of the effort. But the second twist came after dinner when we were all sitting around the fire. Beatrix pulled out a small, wrapped envelope and handed it to me. “We didn’t just come here because the pipes burst,” she admitted, looking down at her hands. “We were actually on our way here anyway to apologize, but we were too proud to call and say we were coming.”
She explained that after a few hours at her place, they had all realized how miserable they were without the “anchor.” They had taken a vote and decided that regardless of whether I let them in, they were going to bring the party to me and pay for every cent of the food.
I felt a lump form in my throat that had nothing to do with the cold weather outside. I realized that by standing my ground and saying “no,” I hadn’t destroyed the family; I had allowed them to grow up.
They needed to feel the weight of the responsibility to appreciate the lightness of the gift I’d been giving them all those years. The “Plan B” Christmas had been a failure, but it was the most successful holiday we had ever had because it restored the balance of our relationships.
Continue reading…
