From the first time I talked to the woman who was to become my mother-in-love, I was impressed. I was just barely seventeen at the time, and from that conversation, I would have thought she was too. Her bubbly voice and ease of conversation that night made me have to remind myself I wasn’t talking to one of my girlfriends. I didn’t realize at the time that she would soon become a treasured friend herself, nor that the wisdom she had to offer far surpassed that of a seventeen year old.

I knew before I met her face to face that this woman must be a very special person. Judging by the things I heard from her son, I thought she was completely perfect in every way… as a mom and as a wife–a pastor’s wife AND a paramedic’s wife, at that.

(I mean, of course, that John’s dad is both of those things. We aren’t polygamists here. Just so ya know.)

And–of course–he told me his mom was the greatest cook on the face of the planet. We hadn’t been courting for three weeks before John made a list of the recipes he wanted me to get from his mom and learn to make. Part of that might have come from the fact that he’d just come back from being in Japan for two years and eating chow hall food. But still. Then when we got married a year later, she had made me a cook book filled with hand-written pages of her favorite recipes, and you’d better believe he made sure certain ones were included. The fact that I use it at least once a week would seem to say he was pretty accurate in his assessment of that cooking. As well as the fact that when his brother was out at our house last time, there were more dinner conversations than I can count centered around their favorite meals made by their mom. Guys… I tell ya.

John’s mom–who is in every way and more as wonderful as I first thought almost five years ago–has been here at our house for the past week and will be with us through Thanksgiving. She came out to help after her great big boy had surgery, and of course, to see her boy’s new little boy of his own. And let me just say that once again, I’m impressed. She is a person who unknowingly teaches by doing… by just being herself. I am constantly taking mental notes–and it would probably serve me well to actually write them down in a notebook. Her cooking, yep, it’s great. But what I learn the most is just from the way she lives. I seldom see her out of sorts, even though she is living with the pain of frequent, chronic, nearly untreatable migraine-type headaches. I “take notes” of the way she plans out her day, always busy with something, and yet always knowing when it’s time to take a break and have some fun. She makes random comments that she doesn’t realize are saying more to this young wife and mama than any book ever could… about caring for and loving children, or being a helper to her husband or being a caring friend… and then she lives those things out. She seems to be able to calm Merritt down better than either John or I can (okay, well, except for nursing him to calm him down. She can’t quite do that) and always knows just when Troy is needing to take a walk to the park or is ready for a snack. No matter how busy we are in a day, and how many different crazy things happen throughout it, she always seems to find a little quiet moment or two or three to spend time with the Lord, even if it is late at night after the rest of us are heading to bed. And when we talk easily about life and whatever happens to pop into my brain at the moment, she listens quietly and gently to my ramblings, often simply reminding me that “the Lord will take care of it.”

Today we had the privilege of being able to celebrate her birthday with her–the first time in ten years for John. She says jokingly that she is “old” now, but anyone who knows her would attest to the fact that this can’t be true. Her energy puts ME to shame. We had a big, wonderfully unhealthy breakfast of waffles, eggs and bacon before going down to the beach in the middle of the day. We walked the pier and then played on the playground with Troy. John and his dad had collaborated on getting her some flowers which John gave his mom when we got home. We ended it all with dinner at Macaroni Grill, complete with a waiter singing Happy Birthday in Italian with an operatic voice after assuring us that he couldn’t sing. Oh, and presents. Can’t forget the presents. Even if one of them has to be exchanged a second time since I bought it on Monday, and I knew it would have to be before I even wrapped it earlier today. Because service is so great these days, I was given the wrong item, unbeknownst to me, twice. And then when we tried to do the necessary exchanging after dinner, the store was out of the one I’d thought I was buying in the first place. Which probably explains why I got the wrong one. But ANYWAY. Moving right along.

The way I see it, the Lord gave me one of the greatest gifts I could imagine by giving me my husband… and then He added a bonus gift on the side through my husband’s parents. I know John’s mom can’t truly be perfect, but I know that she is a very godly woman through whom I’ve been blessed by being given the opportunity to call her my mother-in-love.

Happy Birthday, Mom!