Our house was full of laughter last night. Susan has two sisters, and they try to get together at least once a year for what we have lovingly begun to call “sisters retreat.” With Covid, they were not able to gather in 2020 or 2021, so it has been for them a long times since the three were together. The three husbands aren’t the focus of this occasional gathering of sisters. Sometimes they meet in a place where none of us are present. This time, it was practical for them to meet at our house and I am able to give them time to go on adventures and have time as sisters together without my active participation.

Having the gathering in our home, however, gives me an opportunity to be on the edge of a wonderful event. I get to overhear snippets of family stories and enjoy the laughter and joy of them being together.

I’ve been a part of this family for a long time, now. Susan and I began dating the spring before I went off to college and our college was in the town where her family lived. I was young and homesick and frightened about my abilities as a college student. Their home was a place of peace, refuge and home-cooked meals for me. As I spent more and more time with Susan, the family opened itself to my presence and welcomed me with warmth and love. From my point of view, Susan’s sisters became my sisters as well. I have over 50 years of experience and memories with them. I look forward to seeing them with the same joy that my wife has.

Despite the fact that in-laws are often the subject of jokes, my experience with in-laws is very positive. I don’t think it is possible to imagine a more thoughtful and loving mother- and father-in-law than those whose daughter I married. Because my father died when I was relatively young, I had more years with my father-in-law as a father than I did with the father of my family of origin. He was a beloved guide, mentor, teacher, and friend.

Their family and mind had many differences. To begin with, there was the matter of volume. I grew up with six brothers and sisters. Our house was often filled with loud voices. Sometimes when we were talking, we would just raise our voices more and more to be heard over all of the other voices. Dinner in our family involved lively debate about any number of subjects, including religion, politics, and a host of different topics.

I don’t remember ever hearing Susan’s parents raise their voices. Their home was calm and their dinner table quiet and polite. They discussed important topics, but they spoke one at a time and no one raised their voices. Susan’s mother could accomplish more with a single raised eyebrow than others accomplish with shouted commands.

Somehow, we blended those two styles of family. When our children were growing up, we had a lively dinner table with plenty of discussion, but we also were careful to keep things a bit more calm and quiet. On the other hand, we would sing and joke at the table and voices did get raised from time to time.

I am aware of that difference in volume because Susan and I now live together in our “empty nest” home. There are just two of us for dinner most nights. We can converse without the need to raise our voices. But just down the road is our son’s farmhouse with four children. Spilled water glasses, tears and even a bit of shouting are routine at the dinner table. It seems a bit chaotic compared to our home when they are not visiting, but I find that I come alive with the chaos and even crave it. I really love going to their home or having their family over to our house. I don’t mind cleaning up after a glass gets tipped over. I am fairly competent at consoling a crying child. I know how to pick up a fussy baby and provide a bit of calm.

Having the three sisters together isn’t a particularly noisy event. We aren’t going to receive complaints from our neighbors about raucous parties. But there is a warmth and humor to their conversations that spills out of the room where they have gathered. Last evening, I found myself so attracted to their conversation that I left the quiet of my study and books to just sit in the same room where they were visiting. I tried not to invade their “retreat” too much, but I really enjoyed sitting and listening to them, and I couldn’t help but share a story from time to time.

One of the deep pleasures of this life is being with people you love. You cannot judge the warmth or love of a family by the volume at the dinner table.

For many of us the isolation of the pandemic has meant less being together with those we love. We know that the pandemic is not over. We understand that there are real risks of contacting illness. We do what we can to prevent the spread of the illness. We are vaccinated and boosted. We keep our face masks near by. We follow protocols of frequent hand washing and keeping surfaces clean. But we know that the illness is still present in our communities. We also know how much our quality of life is dependent upon getting together with others. Living close to our son’s home and having our grandchildren in our lives is a blessing beyond measure. The return of the sisters retreat is a deep joy that fills our home and our hearts.

As I drifted off to sleep last night, the sisters were still enjoying their conversation. Somehow the small jar of jalapeño strawberry-jam in the refrigerator came to my mind. It is incredibly sweet and powerfully spicy at the same time. I’ve experienced jalapeño family life as well as strawberry family life. I’m a big fan of both and both together when the opportunity presents itself.

If you see me walking around with a smile on my face, it is one more sign that I am a person of incredibly good fortune surrounded by a wonderfully complex and exciting family. I’m filled with joy that the sisters retreat has returned.