Family by Choice

By Audrey Cress

I knew when my then-fiancé and I decided to elope, I wouldn’t be as prepared as most women are the night before they say, “I do.” We opened his $70 Amazon suit, and it was the mess of wrinkled fabric you would imagine. An iron was on the long list of household items we didn’t have yet, it was after 9 p.m., and without a bridal party, I knew I had to call a friend.

I had known Julie since we met at a Young Life club she led with her husband at Flagler College during my freshman year. I quickly adopted the role of on-call babysitter for her twin toddlers, and she became a regular confidant. When she found out we were eloping so soon and our families weren’t going to be in town, it was no surprise that she volunteered to help with anything we needed.

Her kids were asleep and it was a Thursday night. Her husband was out of town on business and she was working at the high school as a teacher during the day. Needless to say, the sleepy look in her eyes when she opened the door was anticipated.

She graciously ran to her closet and pulled out the iron. She sat at the table while I ironed the suit with shaky, nerve-ridden hands. She asked about how I was feeling and what our honeymoon plans were.

This instance is one of many we resort to since our families are not nearby. I was a military brat with a dad in the U.S. Air Force for 20 years, so I am no stranger to distance from the relatives my friends couldn’t live without. The summoning of the next year’s “orders” to a new state (sometimes new country) was a regular cycle I expected every three years. All that was missing was a screeching whistle and a man in a uniform yelling at us while I expertly packed up my books and toys.

Because I have always lived at least four hours away from extended family, my cousins weren’t like siblings, my aunts and uncles weren’t like cool second parents, and my grandparents weren’t close enough to give us that good grandparent spoiling.

It sounds terrifying and lonely, but somehow my parents cracked the code, and I had caught on.

We never defined our family by blood. No matter where we lived, there were people we interacted with on a regular basis. Our family consisted of our neighbors who let us stay with them during a snowstorm when our generator wasn’t working. It included the family that sat next to us every Sunday in church, my dad’s coworkers, and their families.

It was made up of the people we did life with. The people who weren’t strangers to the everyday.

These people are why I believe that when you don’t have a family nearby or one you can rely on, you choose your family.

Now I am the one leaving my parents and siblings. I am the adult starting my own life and my own family. Now I get the chance to choose the people who will become me and my husband’s family.

It is already piling up with my neighbors I pass in our shared laundry room and barbecue with on warm evenings; the professors who genuinely offer their advice and guidance outside of assignments; the boss who bought us a set of pots and pans when they knew we didn’t have any kitchen supplies; the young adults at our church who are going through the same difficult life decisions we are; and the woman I babysit for who let me borrow her iron. Thanks to her, no one would ever know the navy-blue suit was an Amazon knock-off.

We are slowly piecing our family together. We didn’t even have to ask them to be a part of it, but they are the people we do life with.

When I learned how to do life without the family I was born into, it changed me. It changed my definition of family, and made it possible to find one no matter where we go.