As those who follow my blog know, when I became a full time RVer a few years ago, I sold most of my household items and kept only what I needed in the rig. Once I married and we moved into our “sticks and bricks” home, it was very easy to merge items because I had very little to move in. As such, we had all of my husband’s goods, many of which had been passed to him when his mom went home to heaven. Where I truly appreciate her style and love all of the possessions she left, there is one set of items that are most endearing to me — her pans and baking dishes.
I am often troubled by the fact that my mother-in-law passed away only months before I met my husband. I feel that there is a small gap in my heart that won’t close because I didn’t get a chance to tell her and show her that my intentions toward her son are pure. I didn’t get the opportunity to hear from her what she’d like me to do for him; to hear the desires of her own heart. I feel like I missed out on bonding with her and building a strong relationship. Although I can’t bring her back, there are a couple of things that bring me solace.
First, my wedding ring houses the very diamond that she wore when she married my father-in-law some 50 years ago. I have no words to describe how much that means to me. Secondly, when I’m using those pots, pans, and baking dishes to prepare meals that my husband goes wild over, I get a little twinkle in my eye knowing that she would be pleased because he is pleased, and that we both had a hand in making him happy. Night before last, I was in the kitchen preparing dinner and making shortbread for dessert, and I just knew she’d be contented. It was confirmed when my husband, her baby boy, ate his meal and complimented me on how good it was for at least the next hour!
Where I wish I could be in the kitchen with her physically, I’m satisfied and thanking God that I can honor her each time I fire up the stove. Thanks, Mom!
by D.L. Teamor
When I look in her eyes, I see the love she had for her family; the devotion to her children; the loyalty she had for those she loved.
I see incomparable strength, drive, determination, and the will to overcome even when the mountain seemed too high to climb, too wide to circumvent.
I see pain behind the glimmer and I can almost feel the way she masked her own agony with smiles to give hope to those whom she cherished.
Besides these, I see the expectation she had for those who would come to care for her son – her baby boy. The one who suffered a tragedy that most could never conquer. She poured into him, stood beside and behind him, battled those who gave a less than stellar report on his advancement; and it’s clear that she would expect that exact allegiance from his partner, his helpmate, his bride. It’s clear that she would expect the same from me, and I aim – I vow to deliver.
I will care for his heart and guard his very breath – see that’s the function of the rib. I will support him and love him in a way that would give you joy. I will live for him in a way that would have earned your trust and in turn, cause you to love me, too.
Yes, I will care for him, Barbara Ann, Mother Sparks, Mom… I pledged my devotedness to him, and though I can no longer look into your eyes and say these words to you face to face, I now make a promise to God and I will honor your spirit in both word and in deed.
I am here. I will not abandon him or forsake him in any way, and I thank you for giving him life; making the way for me to be his loving and devoted wife…