About 10 months ago we finished our traveling adventure and decided to come back to the UK. We bought a 120-year-old house which had been owned by only two lovely families. It has very spacious, light-filled bedrooms and a beautiful garden abundant with flowers, fruit trees and fruit bushes. It also has a vine. We even have an allotment where we have already managed to grow many tasty vegetables.

It is our dream house, but it needed a FULL renovation. At the beginning we thought we would renovate it slowly, bedroom by bedroom, but all of a sudden we found ourselves in a full-on renovation of the whole house. We had builders coming in every day for about 4 months. We have been living in dust, noise and mess for five months now.

A while ago my father-in-law came over from Poland to help with painting the walls. When he arrived, I was in Poland with the kids, as the renovation had reached its most intense point. There was no heating and no light for over a month. There was no kitchen, so they had to live off tinned food, fish and chips and ready-made meals.

When I came back with the kids, there was still no heating in the house. My father-in-law was meant to come for two weeks, but he stayed for over two months, as when the builders’ work efficiency dropped and our budget got tight, Sylwester and his dad decided they would finish the renovation themselves.

One day I heard my father-in-law talking on the phone to his wife, sighing that he hadn’t eaten chicken soup for a month. So I said to him:

 

“I will cook a chicken soup for you.”

“Yeah, you will,” he answered with a scoff.

 

We don’t eat meat, except fish. In the past, when my in-laws came for short visits and bought themselves meat, I hated it when they kept it in our fridge, even though they put it in several bags to block the smell. Just the thought of having meat in my house made me feel sick. So it was no wonder my father-in-law answered sarcastically.

In that moment I felt in every crevice of my body that I would cook his favourite soup, and I felt no judgement towards him or myself. When I went shopping with the kids, I bought the chicken and the stock cubes I knew my mother-in-law uses.

The next day I served my father-in-law the chicken soup. When he sat down at the table, he said with a genuine smile (which is not very common!):

 

“No way, a homemade dinner.”

And he ate it with delight.

“Is it nice?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered, “but there is one thing that would make it even better – Kucharek (a Polish artificial flavour enhancer).”

“Then we need to buy it,” I added.

 

Now, I have always been against all the artificial flavours they add to their cooking, but something melted in me – the judger, the next layer of it. It didn’t ease exactly on the day I cooked, it had been dissolving before that through my inner work. The fruits of it were harvested that day, though.

The awareness came as a warm, felt sensation of: I truly accept my in-laws just as they are, and I meet them exactly where they are. I don’t need them to change in order for me to feel OK. The entire connection between my father-in-law and me has changed. It has softened. It is more spacious and welcoming.

I have been cooking meat for him for over a month now. I have been respecting his life choices and the journey that is unfolding in his life. This entire experience has opened another gateway in me. When we fully and wholeheartedly respect where we are right now, we also honour other people’s choices. And it just feels so good. As if  we were sipping endless, delicious, invisible hot chocolate.