Blending a family can be difficult.  Now that you just read that statement, and it’s out of the way, I can speak more openly.  Blending a family can be so incredibly difficult that many people fall short of obtaining the prize.  The difficulties that blended families go through are a completely foreign battlefield to those that blood knit families face.  The adventures, pressures, struggles, and obstacles that blended families see from day to day are an altogether different arena of problems.  Many times blended families are caught off guard by the intensity or heat of the moment that some situations bring to the table.  There is, however, incredible reward to the family that can successfully navigate through these struggles.  The endgame is wonderful for the family who is intentional about making things work and allowing the Lord to do the blending.  For those of you out there who are trying to blend a family together, this post goes out to you.

            To the people who know me well, you all understand that I have a basic foundational philosophy that sorting socks should either be reserved for prison inmates who have committed the most heinous of capital crimes, or for those who are forced to the deepest parts of hell.  I hate sorting socks.  I feel if matching socks were to be used as a capital punishment, we would have a much lower crime rate.  I have never been one to take the time to match the oddball socks from one load of laundry to the next.  I’d rather just pitch them.  

            Over the years of raising boys, I have noticed that kids lack the ability to leave socks on their feet for an entire day. It is the innate nature of a child to pull that cotton covering right off their feet at the first opportunity they see.  Socks and children have been two diametrically opposing forces throughout the modern American age.  Just as oil and water will forever hold their reasons of conflict towards one another, children and socks simply do not mix.  They never will.

            It is for this reason I started throwing socks away.  The years as a single dad trying to keep a house clean with kids running around were spent with a garbage bag in one hand.  Some might call it overkill, but after a dirty sock is on the floor for so long, the cotton fibers mutate into a biological weapon of evil that a dad no longer wants to touch or wash.  When cleaning day would come around, I would walk around the house and all the socks I found on the floor were gathered and pitched, and I would make the declaration that I’m not dealing with socks anymore.  I’m sure that I’ve thrown enough socks away in the last five years to clothe the average American teenager throughout middle school.  Everybody in the house knows that abandoned socks get pitched.  I told my children I am no longer buying socks until they can learn to pick them up themselves.  I had a good plan.

            Little did I know that the plan would backfire in a blended family situation.

            I love my wife and my children dearly. My wife is an island girl that is never warm enough in western Pennsylvania.  She often walks around the house in a jacket or coat, and many times more than one pair of socks.  A lonely pair of black and green socks much smaller in size than what our fourteen year old son could wear any longer was left for dead in the hallway of our upstairs for two months.  Although they were his, they were left on the wayside to fend for themselves, and served no purpose any longer.  For that long span of sixty days they lie there, each day hoping that someone would once more pick them up and wear them.  Day after day they could sense that someone might just claim them, yet each night disappointment came with the shutting off of the light switch as all went to sleep.  For the lonely green socks, hope was wearing thin.

            Then one bright and sunny afternoon my wife’s feet were a bit too cold.  She picked up the old green socks and slipped them on overtop another pair underneath.  The warmth was so appreciated.  They fit her tiny feet so well and perfect, and she bounced through her day with a warm fuzzy feeling.  The socks were happy again.  They felt purpose once more.  All was well.

            Then Justin saw the socks being worn.

            In the moments of blended family conflict everything makes sense in the heat of the battle.  A woman who had come into his life and was sharing his house had now gone as far as to wear his clothes.  It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, sending him into a tizzy that he couldn’t process or sort through.  Upset, he confronted her and demanded that the socks be taken off so he could have them back.  In his eyes it was stolen property.  In her eyes she was just making good use out of something that I was going to throw away anyhow.  Seeing what a conflict this caused, she took the old green socks off and handed them over.  They remained on the floor, while Justin (age 14) fled to his room in retreat, regrouping his feelings.

            It is in these times that many blended families are caught off guard as to what on earth just happened.  Many times the two families who are joining as one find “little” things that make huge differences, and are shell shocked and dumbfounded to the crisis that has suddenly arisen.  If my wife would have been Justin’s biological mother, then he most likely would of just said “Mom, why are you wearing my socks?” and everything would have been fine.  Maybe he wouldn’t of even cared.  Maybe the situation never would have even gotten off to start with because he wouldn’t of even cared that someone wore his outgrown socks.  But with a blended family, there are tensions involved that complicate everything...  and I mean EVERYTHING.

            So how do we deal with these difficulties?

            I will not even begin to claim that I have all the answers, but I will share to you what worked for me.  I was a husband/father caught in a shockwave as to how, or why we just had a meltdown in our family structure.  It all happened so fast that I hardly had time to process it all.  Justin was in his room, my wife looked at me with the deer in the headlights look, and I was left to hold everything.

            So I decided to use humor.

            When Justin finally cooled down, the next day we were all sitting in the living room together.  Tensions seemed to have settled to the level that I could now address things without too much of an explosion, and so I figured I’d give it a whirl. Bringing the situation back to the surface, I recounted the story over again in a way that this time exaggerated it with humor.  

            At first Justin tightened back up in quick defense and anxiety.  It was very apparent that he meant what he said, and no step mom of his was going to wear his old green socks that he didn’t fit in anymore.  It sounds silly just saying that again.  We all caught a sense of how actually funny the situation was, and in all honesty he began to smile himself.  The silly side of the situation began to dissolve the walls that everyone had put up, and we began to see it for what it was. To have a family division over such a little quirky thing quickly became obvious to us all, and we began to retrace our steps.  We were able to navigate through the conflict.  We could then see what the issues really were.  Attached to the string of the socks were under the surface feelings that Justin held pretty tightly.  What really was bothering him were things like someone was washing his clothes, which felt like a privacy issue to him.  He felt like someone had invaded his personal space by wearing a discarded pair of socks.  We walked though some other issues and dealt with it as a family unit.  It was a good moment for us all to talk about respect for one another, and even if we didn’t necessarily agree with what each other did or say, we would at least honor and respect the person for who they were.  In the end, nobody was upset with each other any longer, and we were able to digest the problem. Thank goodness!  Who could of ever guessed an old green pair of socks could cause such trouble!

            I would like to send a takeaway message to those of you who are dealing with family struggles.

Proverbs 15:13 says this:

A glad heart makes a cheerful face,

but by sorrow of heart the spirit is crushed.

Proverbs 17:22

A joyful heart is good medicine,

but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

            There are moments in a blended family that the intensity seems to be more than one would sign up or volunteer for. If we allow it, these tough times can be wedges that can divide a new family.  Nobody truly wants sorrow and division.  A crushed spirit dries up the bones.  We are human, and we get hurt at times.  Conflict happens.  This however is not how things have to stay.  We can pick up the pieces of the moment and add a bit of joy and gladness as a dose of healthy medicine.  When the heart is glad it makes a cheerful face. It is my suggestion to blended families that a mix of humor be brought into situations.  In the right timing, a slight silly side may bring to light how ridiculous the walls and tensions are.  Whether your family struggle is over a pair of green socks or something a bit more serious, I believe that a kind smile and an appreciation of everybody involved can begin to bring joy back into the intensity of it.  Let it melt through the surface, then navigate through what is the essence of the problem.  With prayer, seek the Lord and ask for wisdom to know when the moment is right.  Your blended family will thank you for it.

            Green socks or not.

By Chuck Carr