To Grandmother’s House We Go | A Story About Family, Pressure & the Freedom to Receive

This episode is written to gift you a little extra joy amidst the holiday noise. 

It features a fictional Christmas story, read aloud by my sister, Annaliese Hinkin, that speaks to the parts of us feeling weary from constantly doing, stretching, pleasing, and trying to hold it all together. 

“To Grandmother’s House We Go” follows Etta, a warm-hearted, overextended mom, as she navigates family expectations, emotional overload, and the quiet yearning for rest she struggles to articulate. Yet, amid the clatter of dishes and the insight gained from an unexpected conversation, Etta begins to let go of an old belief: that love must be earned to be kept.

If you've ever felt responsible for everyone else's experiences, if the holidays bring both tenderness and tension, or if you simply need a moment to breathe and feel understood, this story is for you. 

May it provide you with more than just comfort. May it encourage you to receive love, not for what you do, but simply because you are here.

Looking for more seasonal resources? Find them here: https://www.simplywholehearted.com/enneagram-gift-guide

Transcript

Copy Transcript Copied

SPEAKER_01 0:02

Plans, parties, and presents. These days always seem to blur together, don't they? But what is Christmas and Advent season really all about? Well, for you, the multi-passionate woman who's seeking purpose, Advent is an invitation to take a sacred pause, to refocus on God, on you, and on your people. Welcome to the 9th annual Wholehearted Advent Podcast Series, sharing wisdom and transformation for the moments that matter most. The holidays hold so many layers, don't they? We've got joy and then we have overwhelm. There's tenderness with ones that we love, but then there's also tension when we're all together. I think it's full of longing and laughter, all sometimes within the same minute, certainly the same hour. So that's why today I want to offer you something a little bit different. A gift in the form of a story, a fictional Christmas tale that speaks to the deeper emotional journey many of us are navigating this season. This special tale is called To Grandmother's House We Go. And it's a story about family and expectations and about the pressure to make sure everything is okay for everyone else. And woven into the story, the comedy, and the everyday kind of feeling, it's the quiet transformation that can happen when you begin to believe that you don't have to earn your place at the table. Now, this story was originally written during the early days of my journey of coming back into fictional storytelling. It was before I had language for it, or before I knew that I would want to grow it into a much larger project and maybe have the courage to as well. This episode really was part of the spark of my wholehearted Enneagram fiction stories. Those stories are rooted in empathy, spiritual formation, and transformation. I purposely created them to help you see yourself, your Enneagram type, and your journey through a lens of grace and compassion. I believe that this story, Edda's story specifically, is a picture of that. And this time you'll hear it read by my sister, Annalise Hinkin, who beautifully embodies the Enneagram too. The same heart that Edda carries in this story. The longing to be loved, the fear of letting others down, and the quiet exhaustion of trying to do it all. As you listen, I sure hope that you feel seen. And I do hope you feel a little less alone. And like Edda, may you hear a gentle invitation, not to try harder, but to come home to yourself with a whole heart. So get cozy. Let your shoulders drop. Here is to Grandmother's House We Go. A Christmas story for the ones who carry more than they need to.

SPEAKER_00 3:09

Some families begin the holiday season with parades and others with a lavishly set table, or the scent of cinnamon rolls warming the whole house. Etta Harper's family always began the holidays the same way, with a long car ride, a little chaos, and at least five movie quotes before they reached the end of their weekend at Grandma Mabel's old farmhouse in the mountains. Every year Etta promised herself she would savor it, and every year she secretly dreaded the emotional marathon ahead. But this year she wasn't sure which feeling would win. Etta Harper gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than she meant to. The mountain highway curved like a ribbon through the pines, each turn revealing more of the evergreens and frosted peaks. She'd like to think she was the type to savor the beauty, but today she barely noticed it. From the backseat, Theo smacked the plastic dinosaur against the window in rhythmic fuds. Mom, T Rex wants out Bud, he can wait. We aren't too far, Eda said through a smile she did not feel. Nora slid one earbud out just long enough to sigh dramatically. How close are we to grandma's house? Dad always makes sure we have snacks. Etta kept her eyes on the road. He'll be there not too long after we arrive, remember? And yes, I'm sure he'll have plenty of snacks on hand. Why didn't you bring any? Etta exhaled slow and steady. Of course she had brought snacks. They were somewhere in the overstuffed tote she had packed, while also trying to referee a sibling argument, fold five loads of laundry, and make sure the pies got done in time. But explaining that would take more energy than she had to give. Her phone buzzed in the cup holder. A text from Will. Traffic, running late, you're doing great. Etta stared at the message longer than she should have. Why did his encouragement make her both angry? And want to cry. The let out another dinosaur roar as Nora slipped her headphones back in with the finesse of someone delivering a final verdict. Eda rolled her neck and shoulders, trying to release the tension that lived there permanently these days. Okay, she whispered to herself. Let's just get to Grandma's in one piece. Thirty minutes later, the farmhouse appeared around the next bend, activity and life glowing through the windows, while chimney smoke curled like a gentle welcome. Something inside Eda softened. The view of grandma's house always did that. It was the only place Etta didn't have to pretend. Yet for some reason she always did, leaving the weekend feeling unfulfilled. Theo scrambled out of the car the moment it stopped. Grandma, I smell pie. You definitely can't smell pie from out Eda paused. Actually, she could. Mabel opened the front door before the kids even reached the steps. Well, look at you three, she called. Come in, come in, you're right on time. Her voice carried warmth like a blanket, and for a moment Eda felt the sting of unexpected tears. Ready or not, the holidays had begun. As Eda stepped through Mabel's front door she was hit with a joyful, chaotic symphony of noise. The coats flung over stair rails, and laughter ricocheted from room to room, while a football game was blaring somewhere in the background. Then someone, likely cousin Bruce, was attempting a turkey impression in the kitchen. Mabel leaned close to Eda. They've been here two full days, and already I'm praying for strength, she whispered with a wink. Eda exhaled a grateful laugh, as Mabel's humor always cut the tension, like a warm blanket. Before she got any further, Aunt Lorraine joined them in the hallway. Oh, Lorraine said, eyes flicking from Eda's new hairstyle to Theo's mismatched socks. You made it. Her voice hung in the air, sharp and disapproving. Hi, Lorraine, Eda said with schooled warmth. It's good to see you too. Lorraine sniffed. Hm Dinner is a bit behind schedule. We've been waiting on a few things. Her look and tone implied that those few things were clearly Eda's fault. Before Eda could respond, cousin Bruce popped his head around the corner. Hey, he boomed. If it isn't my favourite Harper family. Nora, Theo, did you bring my favourite cousins their favourite cousins? Theo giggled, launching himself into Bruce's open arms as Nora half smiled, a teenager's equivalent of a full hug. Bruce, Lorraine hushed, inside voices. Bruce grinned. Lorraine, I only have one voice. Joyful He shot Eda a look that said Help me, his expression said. She's in full, ideal holiday control mode. Etta bit her lip and held back a laugh, and as she set her bag down, Eda caught sight of the kitchen. It was there's no nice way to say it absolute mayhem. Half assembled casseroles, a cutting board covered in celery carnage, the sink was full of dishes, and the turkey looked either artfully basted or abandoned mid carving. Something in Eda's helper heart clicked on, like a switch thrown by instinct. Oh, let me get this, she said, already rolling up her sleeves, but Mabel touched her arm gently. You just got here, sweetheart. Take a breath. Etta dismissed the invitation as she was already scanning for tasks. There was no way she could rest in a room full of unmet needs. It felt wrong, almost like standing still in a burning building. Lorraine stepped aside, grateful for a new soldier in the dinner trenches. Well, since you're offering the sweet potatoes need I got it, Etta said quickly, grabbing the nearest mixing spoon as Theo tugged at her sweater. Mom, can I go help Bruce with the football snacks? Sure, she said, without looking at him. Nora hovered near the stairs with her overstuffed bag. Where should I put my things? Up in your room, sweetheart. But which room is mine this year? Uh whatever's empty, Eda said, stirring, without thinking. Nora's face fell, but Etta didn't see it. She was too busy compensating and filling every gap, trying to make everything okay so that no one would be disappointed. Mabel watched her for a quiet moment. There was love in her eyes, but also a hint of the knowing that only caring grandmothers tend to have. Etta, Mabel said with patience, the kitchen will still be here in ten minutes. Go over and spend a little time with your nieces and nephews. Let yourself arrive. Etta opened her mouth to protest, and just then Lorraine swooped in with a tray of gravy and an urgent whisper in her ear. We're behind schedule, and the rolls are burning. Mabel sighed while Etta responded with a tight smile. Okay, I'll just help Lorraine for a few minutes. Mabel didn't push. Instead she simply patted Eda's shoulder, a dose of love in the face of demand and expectation. Etta leaned over the counter and she mashed sweet potatoes like she was kneading out her frustration when Bruce ambled in again. So he drawled, leaning on the island. On a scale of one to ten, how thrilled are you to be here? Etta snorted somewhere between past the cranberry sauce and I need divine intervention. Bruce clapped once. Ha yes, the sweet spot. Etta tried to laugh, but the truth weighed heavily on her. She had just arrived, and she was already feeling overwhelmed. How could she have longed for the stay all year only to feel this way now? The dinner cleanup hadn't even begun yet. She looked around the kitchen, which was a battlefield of casseroles, half chopped vegetables, and abandoned utensils. She let out a sigh. Knowing her promise to tackle just one task was futile. Overwhelmed by the mountain of unfinished chores, she felt the pressure of time, as hungry stomachs would demand to be filled. Mabel tried valiantly one more time to encourage Eda toward the living room where the others had gathered. Sweetheart, go sit for a minute, Mabel murmured. Let yourself enjoy a break with the family. But Etta was already tying on an apron around her waist, cinching it with force, ready to take on the task. It's fine, she said, reaching for the mixing bowl. Really? I've got it. Mabel sighed with a knowing softness. I know that tone. That's the I don't got it tone. Before Eda could respond, Aunt Lorraine swooped back into the kitchen with a measuring cup and a dramatic exhale. Etta, Lorraine said, I asked Bruce to whisk the gravy, and he's well he's Bruce. Bruce poked his head in. I am an artiste, not a whisker. You're making lumps, Lorraine hissed. Bruce held the whisk up triumphantly. These are artisanal lumps. Etta stepped between them, snatched the whisk gently, and began working the gravy with quick, purposeful motions. I've got it, she said again, a little too brightly. Theo darted through the kitchen, chasing Bruce's dog with a piece of turkey skin. Theo, Eda shouted, stop running, and what is that in your hand? It's a snack. Theo grinned, and Mabel snorted into her apron. Nora came in next, huffing with the intensity that only a teen can. Mom, my room is freezing. I found a spider and someone left a sock on my pillow. A boy sock. Okay, Eda breathed, whisking faster. I'll um I'll deal with that in a minute. Ah Mom, you always say that and then you forget, Nora mumbled under her breath. Aunt Lorraine perked up like she had been waiting all afternoon for that emotional tremor. Hm, she hummed. Sounds like some people need to learn to prioritize. Eda froze on the spot. Then Mabel shot Lorraine a look that said not today. From the dining room, Bruce shouted Four calling birds. Would somebody turn down the football? Those commentators are loud. Mabel rolled her eyes. I have no idea what that's supposed to mean. It's a twelve days of Christmas thing, Bruce called back. I'm committing to an entire bit tonight. Oh dear, Mabel muttered. Pray for us. At that moment the oven timer beeped as Nora shrieked because Theo leapt over the ottoman as his dinosaur roared, while Aunt Lorraine muttered at the gravy. When the football commentators were enthusiastic on TV, as if a space shuttle were launching, Eda felt a surge of emotion building inside her. It was all too much, too many requests, too many needs, too many demands, and too many things Eda felt responsible for. Mabel approached slowly, placing one gentle hand on Eda's back. You've jumped in too quickly, honey. I know you've baked for days and you've had to do the drive yourself, she whispered. Let someone else step in and help. As I said, go sit awhile and get one of the others to step in for you. I'm fine, Eda said, but her voice cracked. Mabel brushed a stray hair from her face. You don't have to earn your place at my table. Eda blinked, and blinked again. Bruce popped back into the kitchen again, holding a plate of raw carrot sticks. Lorraine said I need a safe task. Is this safe enough? Or will I somehow ruin the carrots too? No, honey, the carrots are fine, Mabel chuckled. We'll see, Lorraine muttered from the other side of the room. Theo barreled back in, holding a pine cone. Mom, look what I found in the yard. Okay, Ada snapped, too sharp, even to her own ears. Everyone, please just stop for one second. Theo froze midstep, while Nora glared at her with shaming embarrassment, and Lorraine lifted both eyebrows in perfect judgment. Bruce leaned into the doorway like a cartoon character peeking into a saloon, but of course, Mabel didn't flinch. She kept her hand on Eda's back. Now, honey, Mabel whispered, step outside for a minute. Etta breathed out shaky and thin. I can't. There's too much to do. Mabel replied with grace. That's exactly why you should. Etta's mind raced through everything still depending on her. The gravy still needed stirring, the rolls were burning, Lorraine was watching. Will wasn't here. The kids were melting, and Mabel took the whisk from Eda's hand. I've got this, she said. Go, breathe. And in a rare moment of surrender, Etta let herself walk away, and she stepped onto the back porch. The cold air hit Eda like a glass of water to the face, shocking and clarifying all at once. The door closed behind her, and she rested her head against the siding, pausing to breathe, deeply for the first time that day. Inside, the house continued to hum with the sounds of life. There was laughter, barking, pots clinging, Nora's footsteps pounding in the room overhead, and Aunt Lorraine's voice caring like she was directing troops. Out here, though, it was just the sound of the wind, hushing through the evergreens, and a distant hum of holiday chaos muted by walls and snow. Eda wrapped her arms tight around her ribs, but not from the cold, from weariness. She felt tired in a way that went deep into her bones. Everyone needs something all the time, she whispered. And I never get to rest. The last word cracked before she could cover it up. Tears pricked at her eyes, not the dramatic kind, but the defeated sort that arrive when tiredness finally catches up with you. The creak of the front porch door signaled Mabel's presence. She wore her thick card again and the gentle expression that seemed stitched into her DNA. Mind if I join you Eta swiped her cheek. It's fine. I'm fine. Mabel gave a little snort. And I'm the Queen of England. Now scoot over, honey. Etta snorted in reply, despite herself as Mabel settled beside her on the porch bench, sitting side by side as they enjoyed the momentary silence. The world was lavender with late afternoon light, just the kind of hue that invites heart level conversation and honesty. Mabel excelled first. You know, sweetheart. You remind me a lot of your mom. Etta blinked. I do. Mabel nodded. She carried all of us. She was always doing, always fixing, always smoothing the rough edges, so no one else had to feel discomfort. Mabel paused. She loved beautifully. But she often forgot she was allowed to receive love too. Etta looked down at her hands, now realizing that she had been wringing them. I I don't mean to overdo it. I just want everyone to feel taken care of. I know you do, Mabel said gently. It's one of your best qualities. She paused. And sometimes, well, it's just too much to do always all by yourself. Etta swallowed. I just well, I feel like if I take a breath everything will fall apart, or the consequences will be too much. She ticked off invisible boxes in her palm. Lorraine will criticize, the kids will complain, we'll won't know what to do, dinner will burn, and everyone will be disappointed, and somehow it will be all my fault. Mabel studied her granddaughter with tender, knowing eyes. Ah, she whispered. There it is. Etta wiped a tear. What? Mabel took her hand gently. The old story, the one that tells you you're only safe, only wanted, only loved when everyone else is okay. The story that says you have to hold everything together so you don't lose your place in their hearts. Etta felt tightness catch in her throat, but Mabel continued, soft but firm. That story has kept you going, but it also's keeping you exhausted. Etta closed her eyes. I hate feeling like this. I hate that I snapped, and I hate that I'm not enjoying being in a place I love with the people I love most. Mabel squeezed her hand. Honey, conviction isn't punishment. It's grace inviting you home to help you write a better story. Her throat tightened, tears slipped free, yet Mabel didn't look away. She simply let it happen. Rest, dear one, Mabel whispered, you don't have to rescue anyone today. You only need to be with them. Etta shook her head slowly. I don't know how Mabel smiled. Then consider today your chance to practice. Then she reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out a tiny hand carved wooden bird. Etta recognized it immediately. Oh grandma, the turtle dove from the twelve days of Christmas ornament I made you so long ago. Mabel nodded. You made it when you were eight. You said it meant peace and belonging. She placed it gently in Eda's hand. Remember, my dear one, you will always be loved by me and welcomed here, even if you don't bring all the things or are running late, or another batch of rolls gets burned. Eda stared at the bird, willing back the memory of her small hands painting it, and the joy it brought her to give a significant gift. She could feel a slight shift, a willingness to believe. Try again and receive love without earning it. Mabel stood slowly, joints cracking with a familiar soundtrack. Well, she said, smoothing her apron and pulling her cardigan tighter, I'd better get back to check on Bruce before he sets something on fire. Come inside when you're ready. And remember, honey, curiosity before judgment, connection before control. She winked and succinctly summarized her wisdom. My interpretation of the most important lessons Jesus ever gave. Despite everything, Eda smiled, and as Mabel opened the porch door the warmth of the house drifted out like an invitation. Eda stayed seated a moment longer, treasuring the gift of the wooden dove, letting its memory speak to that gnawing ache to be loved without earning it. She took a few moments to breathe more slowly, whispered a prayer of thanks, and noticed that receiving felt like coming home. Eda wiped her tears from earlier and tucked the tiny wooden turtle dove into her sweater pocket as a reminder of peace and belonging. Mabel's words echoed with surprising strength in her heart. Curiosity before judgment, connection before control. Okay. Sure, she was willing to try that. She took one more studying breath and stepped back inside, greeted by warmth mingled with cinnamon and cranberries, roasted turkey and the unmistakable scent left behind by the burnt rolls. The kitchen buzzed just as chaotically as before, but she noticed different things. Theo was helping by stacking napkins in a leaning tower of pizza. Nora finished the vegetable tray with Bruce supervising like a game show host. Mabel and Lorraine were debating whether or not the green beans were overcooked. Same chaos, but a different perspective. Ada walked over to the stove, grabbed a clean spoon, and praised Nora. The gravy looks less lumpy. That's because Bruce made me whisk it like sixty seven hundred times, Nora said, rolling her eyes but fighting a smile. Bruce leaned in from behind her. You're welcome, world. Aunt Lorraine sniffed disapprovingly. It's still a bit thick. Bruce gasped. Lorraine, I have brought my soul to this gravy. Mabel chuckled, patting Bruce's shoulder. Your soul is very flavorful. The tension in the room softened just a little. Eda relaxed too, as she reminded herself she didn't have to manage the room. She could simply be in it. A moment later the front door swung open and Will stumbled in with grocery bags. Team Harper has arrived, he announced. And I brought reinforcements. He held up a bag of chips and several boxes of pre made rolls. Because he said confidently, I assumed something burned. Aunt Lorraine bristled and Bruce raised both hands. It was the rolls. The rolls have sinned. Will crossed the room, juggling grocery bags and trying not to slip on Theo's pine cone. He leaned in and kissed Eda's cheek. Hey hun, he said. Hey yourself, Etta replied, leaning toward him just enough for Bruce to freeze midstep. Bruce pointed dramatically. Whoa, whoa. Everybody take note. It looks like he's leaning. Lorraine groaned and Nora smirked while Bruce Karate chopped the air and puffed out his chest proudly, doing an impression of his favourite movie line. Don't worry, folks, I know karate. I'll be right over here if anyone needs protection. The room erupted with laughter, leaving everyone grinning. Theo bounced into the room. Dad, did you bring more snacks? Will raised an eyebrow. Is that the only reason you're happy to see me? Bruce clapped for everyone's attention. All right, troops, first one to set the table gets an extra roll. Oh wait, no, the rolls are cancelled. Everyone groaned, then Mabel laughed, and Nora grabbed a stack of plates, while Theo tried to carry too many napkins at once. Bruce carried the gravy to the table, while the overflow threatened to spill out of the dish, Eda decided to put Mabel's words into practice, and observed the scene without stepping in to help. Noticing instead of managing, connecting instead of controlling. Mabel moved beside her and whispered See, everyone is having a good time. Even if dinner's a little late and the gravy is a little lumpy. Eda smiled. You're right. Everyone is having a great time. By the time they gathered around the long farmhouse table, a dark purple dusk had settled over the mountains, turning the windows into soft mirrors of candlelight and faces. Mabel lit the last taper candle, its glow catching the edges of the mismatched china and the slightly lopsided centerpiece that Theo had assembled from pine cones, an alarming number of glittery pipe cleaners. Eda took her seat beside Nora, across from Will. Her shoulders felt lighter somehow, and Will reached for her hand under the table and squeezed once, and without hesitating, Etta squeezed back. Mabel stood at the head of the table and cleared her throat. Well, she said, with grandmotherly authority, before the turkey gets cold or Bruce starts reciting all twelve days of Christmas. I knew them all, Bruce warned proudly. Mabel continued. Unbothered, I'd like us all to hold hands and pray together. The room softened as she spoke the familiar words of the liturgy. Each family member allowed the prayer to envelop them as they reflected on what mattered most in the season. Thank you, Mabel said, eyes bright with meaning. Now let's eat. They began passing the gravy, potatoes, store bought rolls, and green beans that Mabel insisted were not overcooked. Lorraine, they're just old fashioned, the room hummed with small conversations, forks happily clinking against plates, and the comforting rhythm of family being together. Part way through the meal, Nora tapped Eda's arm. Mom, she whispered. Yeah, sweetheart? Nora hesitated. Earlier when I said you never bring snacks, I didn't mean you don't take good care of us. I know, Eda said gently. I wasn't really listening the right way. Nora blinked in surprise. What do you mean? Well, Eda admitted, I was worried about too many things at once. I'm sorry. Nora blinked as if surprised to find her mother present in a new way, and her shoulders softened. It's okay, she's paused. I'm glad grandma put my seat next to you. Joy and ease filled Eda. Across the table, Bruce raised a fork full of turkey like a microphone. Attention, family, in honor of the feast before us, I would like to recite a short poem. Aunt Lorraine groaned Bruce But Bruce was already standing. Five golden rings he belted loud enough to rattle the cranberry sauce. Theo erupted into giggles. Mabel hit a smile, even the rain fought the twitch of a reluctant grin. Then Theo shouted And six gaselaying right as his elbow knocked a roll off his plate. Bruce gasped The prophecy is fulfilled. The whole table erupted with laughter, groans, clapping, and shaking heads. Later, when plates were cleared, and Mabel insisted on washing dishes in peace, thank you kindly, Etta lingered at the table, soaking it all in. Will leaned close. You okay? Eda nodded slowly. Yeah actually I am. She reached into her pocket, feeling a small wooden turtle dove warm from its cozy spot. Mabel called from the kitchen Eda, sweetheart, bring me the pie knives. Etta stood smiling. Coming, grandma Mabel. Mabel watched her with a soft knowing glow and the look of a woman witnessing her granddaughter respond with love rather than the heavy yoke of responsibility. As she walked toward Mabel's voice, the laughter behind her still swirling like glowing embers, she felt herself receiving Mabel's words on the porch again and belonging, not because she had earned it, but because she was worthy to receive it just as she was. And the feeling she longed for over the years came rushing in, the peace that only happens when you really come home. And this year, Etta realized coming home had less to do with the place, and more to do with learning to give and love with her whole heart.

SPEAKER_01 33:13

And especially if you happen to resonate with the Enneagram too or similar types, or maybe you even know someone who does, maybe you can see how hard it is to stop doing, stop fixing, and stop overextending. And may you pause to notice and then pause long enough to rest. And ultimately long enough to receive. But this story, like so many I'm learning to write, it's from the freedom that comes when you stop striving and start receiving. When you stop trying to earn love and start allowing it to find you right where you are. And this story also is reflective of a much bigger project that I can't wait to tell you all about next year. I'll be sharing more stories like this, ones that reflect core longings, struggles, and redemption arcs of your personality type. I'm creating stories that help you see yourself not just as a label, but as someone God is gently transforming, even in the most messy, most human moments. If this episode spoke to your heart and felt like a genuine gift, please let me know. I'd love to hear from you. Your words, your presence, your feedback, it means so much to me. As you go, friend, may you slow down, savor the moments that matter most, and make space for Christ to meet you right where you are. And if you need a little more support this season, you can download the free wholehearted gift giving guide or book a clarity call to help you find peace and presence in your own story. Merry Christmas. And remember, your wholehearted story is still being written.