A Word of Thanks to Our Sponsor

My mother-in-law, Brenda, is in the hospital tonight. She's expecting to go home in just a few hours, but this hospital stay has, I think, made everyone in the family aware of the fragility of life. Brenda is hands-down the most enthusiastic reader of this blog, and when I write about the girls (and let's face it, they are pretty much my only subject these days), I am always thinking of her. Of others too, but always of her.

Thus, this seems like a good place to say one thing that has been on my mind, since we don't really talk on the phone and talking is sometimes difficult for her these days--one thing that I didn't want to let any more time pass without saying.

And that is just . . . thank you. At Christmas this year, my parents once said, as they have said before, "Thank you for Munchkin and Gillian!" It's odd if you think about it, because while we have, in a sense, presented our parents with grandchildren (and I suppose we do the messy parts of raising children that allow our parents the fun of spoiling grandchildren), in a more significant sense, our parents have given our children to us. Maybe they've given us their genes, or maybe they've given us the dream of having children and sharing our warmest, tenderest memories from our own childhoods. Maybe they've given us some advice, or the example of parenting that has made us the particular kind of parents that we are, that has then shaped who our children are.

And further, my mother-in-law has given me my children because she has given me her child. That she did so with an open, warm, welcoming heart means more to me than I can ever say. It is typical of the generosity of spirit and sense of cheerful optimism that are among the first things I noticed about Brenda when I met her, and that have remained the central characteristics that shape my appreciation of her. I appreciate these things not only because it's really nice having a mother-in-law like that, but also because I experience them every day even more intimately in the way she has passed them along to Sam.

What--you might be thinking--cheerful optimism? Sam? And you would be right: Sam has made part of his express mission in life to become a grumpy old man, and he practices earnestly, devotedly, and often flawlessly every day. But he is unbelievably optimistic in his estimation of me and generous in his forgiveness (an art that I founder in but am trying at glacial speed to progress in, due to his much better example of this most Christian of virtues), and I know both from my own observation and from his explicit statement that these are qualities he has from his mother, along with the sweetness of his heart--a heart that is intact and strong because she has cared so lovingly and faithfully for it for all of his life.

So, thank you, Brenda, for my husband, for my children, for the life I lead every day that is happier--and harder, and richer, and sweeter--than I ever dared hope, and for your share in creating it. And most of all, thank you for the faith you've blessed our family with, and for the promise it holds that we share in an eternity with one another and Jesus.