While searching for a greeting card in my stockpile, I found some lovely ones for mothers. I wish I’d sent them while Mom still lived, but I usually waited too late, so called instead. I’ll give them to someone with a living mother, I thought at first. But another person deserves those cards, and when this column publishes, she’ll be at my house, visiting from two provinces east.
Mothers-in-law get a lot of bad press. Not mine. But I don’t think Mom G realizes how much she means to me – or how she inspires me. For the thirty-nine years the Preacher and I have been married, she has never imposed herself on us; never acted possessive of her eldest. And not once did she imply that I wasn’t good enough for him. Instead, she spent long hours shopping for gifts for birthdays and Christmas for our family. I loved her thoughtful, fun choices, and the delight she took in the homemade gifts we sent her.
For most of those years, we’ve lived far from Mom. Not wanting to impose on us, she seldom called. We did most of that. But when West Nile Neurological Disease attacked my husband in 2007, she hopped on a flight West. Without even asking (she didn’t need to), she stayed a month, encouraging and supporting us during those first weeks when no one knew if Rick would live or die. When cancer attacked him in 2012, she did the same.
During those days of illness, as we joined shoulders, fighting for the survival of the man we both loved, I learned to know Mom G better. A mere bird of a woman in appearance, she caught my heart more than ever. Like the sparrows that scrap with swallows to protect their nests in our backyard, I saw her feisty side.
She needed that. Her husband died young, leaving her a widow at thirty-nine. She had five children to support, ages seven to seventeen. She took a hospital housekeeping job and managed. But her cup of sorrow has run over often. During the time I’ve known her, she has also lost her mother, two of her children, and many beloved friends.
Mom prays. Talks to God about everything, including the stuffed wallet she lost just last week – and then found. She hums a lot, too.
I’ve known Mom G most of my life, about half of hers, and only eighteen years less than I knew my own mother. Each relationship has carried its own closeness, and each brings a different facet of gratitude. My mother gave me life; my mother-in-law raised the man who would share that life.
My other mother. She deserves those cards and she’ll get them. Even more, she deserves my love and gratitude. I don’t tell her often enough, but she’s got that too. Forever.
If God has blessed you with a great in-law, tell them.