Life’s lessons often come from the most unexpected places. You see, I’ve always learned to patiently navigate whatever life throws at me. This skill became particularly useful when my father remarried after my mother’s passing. It helped me when my in-laws attempted to deter me from marrying my husband. Using what I’d previously learned about patience and diplomacy, I weathered their storm.

Families can sometimes be hard to crack into, and that was precisely the case with Jeremy’s family. I’m from Morocco, and Jeremy comes from a very traditional and conservative family in Georgia. You can imagine the cultural divide we had to bridge.

I moved to the United States when I was a young girl of eleven, not long after my mom had left this world. That chapter in my life was challenging, especially adjusting to a new country while accepting a new stepmother so soon after my mom’s death.

Though my stepmom wasn’t malicious, our bond was always strained. I think her yearning to have children of her own made for a complex relationship with my sister and me. Petty tactics to ruffle our feathers were frequent, but my mother had armed me with the valuable weapon of resilience—to respond to unkindness with nothing but a bright smile.

This resilience became my shield, and to my stepmother’s dismay, her provocations lost their power. Over time, things mellowed, and peace settled in our home. But the lesson lingered—a smile and kindness in the face of adversity were powerful tools. When facing Jeremy’s family, this lesson proved invaluable.

Meeting Jeremy’s family was an eye-opener. The Fergus family dinner was supposed to be a warm meet-and-greet, but it felt more like the opening of a lengthy cold war.

Our introduction was filled with awkward smiles and fleeting hugs. The standout moment was when Jeremy’s mother, Leona, introduced me to Diane, his former girlfriend, with the gleeful suggestion that we might be fast friends. It was meant to irk me, but I chose to smile and engage with Diane, understanding her own surprise at being part of this uncomfortable situation.

When dinner commenced, I found my plate untouched by anything I could eat, with every dish laden with pork despite Jeremy’s reminders of my dietary restrictions. When offered a drink, I politely requested water, continually returning Leona’s gaze with warmth and gratitude. My demeanor drew irritation, but I simply did as my mother had taught me—smiled and weathered the storm.

Soon, I noticed a pattern. Diane was doted upon, showered with compliments, while I was left to fend off underhanded comments. Yet, maintaining my pleasant demeanor seemed to unsettle Leona and her hopes to fracture my spirits.

For subsequent family gatherings, Diane was always warmly welcomed, while my place at festive tables became non-existent. Despite their attempts, they couldn’t tear Jeremy and I apart. When he proposed, shock was an understatement.

Jeremy and I had dreamed of a vibrant wedding that fused our heritages, oblivious of the Fergus family’s assumption of a conventional ceremony. So, showing up in white was a move I acknowledged with a smile, while my colorful wedding attire turned heads—and cameras—elsewhere.

That joyous day was pure validation. However, the holiday season brought an unexpected twist when Leona proposed that I host Christmas—a gesture laced with hope that I fail spectacularly. Unbeknownst to her, arranging elaborate meals was a knack of mine.

The dinner table was a feast for the senses; each dish a testament to tradition and taste. Faced with an unwinnable situation, Leona’s frustration exploded into accusations of ulterior motives.

Suddenly, Jeremy intervened in my defense, reminding his mother of the effort and heart I’d put into the evening. Leona was caught off guard by his support but said nothing until after a telling pause. Her capitulation came in the words, “You won,” born more out of surrender than reconciliation.

In that moment, I knelt beside her, holding her hands. “Leona,” I earnestly began, “this isn’t a competition. I love your son and don’t want to fight anymore.” The words marked the start of a truce, leading to a newfound respect and growing affection over the following months.