You are sitting in the car in the driveway. The engine is off. You can see the lights in the front window and hear, faintly, somebody laughing. You have not gone in yet.
The short answer: If family gatherings make you feel small, pray before you walk in, not after. Settle your worth before the first comment lands, because it was settled by God long before this dinner. Scripture calls God “the lifter up of mine head,” and He does that work in driveways too. You can be kind at the table without shrinking.
Why family gatherings make us feel small
Nobody at the table may mean you harm. That is part of what makes it so confusing.
But every family has a script. There is the question that always comes, about the job, the weight, the divorce, the grandchildren. There is the comment that always lands. And there is the old role you slide back into before the coats are off: the peacemaker, the disappointment, the one who does all the cooking and none of the talking.
You can be sixty-two years old, raised children, buried parents, run a household for four decades, and still become twelve at your mother’s table in about four minutes.
That is not weakness. It is what the oldest relationships do to us. But it helps to see it coming.
What to settle before you walk in
The time to decide who you are is not at the table, with the comment still hanging in the air. It is before you open the car door.
King David wrote Psalm 3 on the worst morning of his life, running from his own son, with a man throwing stones and curses at him along the road. Some of the curses stung because some of them rhymed with things that were true about his past.
And into that morning, he wrote this:
But thou, O LORD, art a shield for me; my glory, and the lifter up of mine head.
Psalm 3:3, KJV
Notice what David does not claim. He does not say he lifted his own head. He does not argue with the man throwing stones. He names the One whose hand goes under the chin of a person whose face has gone down.
That is the posture for the driveway. Not “I will be confident today.” Rather: my standing was decided somewhere else, by Someone who does not change His mind over dinner.
A prayer before the family gathering
God, they will all be there in a few hours, and I can already feel myself getting smaller.
There is the question that always comes, and the comment that always lands, and the old role I slide back into before the coats are off. I am too old to still be this person at that table, and I am going to be her anyway unless something changes in me first.
So settle it now, before I walk in. I am Yours. That was decided a long time ago by the only court that matters, and nothing said over the ham this afternoon revises it.
Let me be kind without being small. Let me answer without defending. And let me actually see them, because some of them are carrying things too.
Come with me. Amen.
This prayer is one of twenty-four I wrote for the days you have no words of your own. The others are for the night before a medical test, the child who does not call, the quiet marriage, and more. They are free.
How to be kind without shrinking
Kindness and smallness look alike from across the room, but they are not the same thing.
Smallness apologizes for existing. It agrees with the comment to end the moment. It goes quiet about what is actually true in your life because someone might not approve.
Kindness can hold its ground in a low voice. It can say, “I’d rather not talk about that today,” and pass the potatoes. It can let a remark go unanswered without letting it in.
A few things help:
Prepare one sentence for the question that always comes. Say it once, warmly, and change the subject. You do not owe anyone a debate over dinner.
Look for the other person who is carrying something. There is almost always someone else at that table having a hard year. Being the one who notices them changes your own afternoon.
Leave when you have done enough. Staying until you are raw is not love. It is endurance, and it helps nobody.
When the gathering has an empty chair
If someone is missing from the table this year, the gathering can be twice as hard: the old script plus the new absence.
You are allowed to say the name. You are allowed to leave early. You are allowed to cry in the car on the way home and still count the day as one you got through.
Frequently asked questions
What should I pray before a family gathering?
Pray for your standing to be settled before you walk in, so the conversation cannot unsettle it. Ask for kindness without smallness, patience without silence, and eyes to notice others who are struggling. Psalm 3:3 is a good verse to carry in with you.
How do I stop feeling like a child around my family?
Recognize the old role before it takes over, and decide ahead of time how you will respond to familiar comments. Prepare one calm sentence for the questions that always come. Remember that your worth was not assigned by this family and cannot be revoked by it.
Is it okay to leave a family gathering early?
Yes. Leaving before you are overwhelmed is often wiser and kinder than staying until you say something you regret. You can love your family and still protect your peace. A short, warm goodbye is enough.
Written by Ellen G. Coyle, author of A Year at His Feet.
If you want a companion for the whole year, A Year at His Feet is 365 short readings for the woman who is still carrying something.