Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Sobbing for Sarah

Sarah, my daughter-in-law, has told me more than once that she wishes I would get up in church when she is present and tell everyone how much I love her and why. Furthermore, my voice must crack, and I must break down weeping to show my sincerity.

So, here I am, tears brimming, standing in front of you:

Sisters, my heart is so full this morning (small, but significant sob here). I want to tell you how grateful I am to have Sarah as my daughter-in-law, who is like a real daughter to me, except I didn't have to push her through my own birth canal, nor did I have to live through her bad hair days when she was a teenager. In fact, except for a few scattered days, I haven't had to live with her at all. This makes loving her a hell of a lot easier.

Oh, excuse me, I forgot I was in church.

She makes the best tuna salad sandwiches ever. It's the celery. I love her tuna salad. I wish she could be my personal meals on wheels lady and bring me a tuna salad sandwich everyday. And chocolate milk, and maybe a cookie.

She is the best mother.  She won't let those three children travel in a car without those damned car seats!  I say, "let me drive the boys. It's only a couple of blocks." Noooo, it's too dangerous.  So it's either transfer those seats, which weigh more than I do, or forget about it. I tell her about the times when I used to speed down the highway with two loose toddlers,  leaping like monkeys in the back seat, yelling and screaming, and how I was just fine, and I wasn't even on meds then.

She smiles at me--she has the loveliest smile--no, I can't take my grandchildren without the car seats even if it is only a block and we're in a quiet little neighborhood and there aren't any cars, except parked ones.

I love her because she is a serious reader and loves Sam even though he isn't.
I love her because teenage girls at church adore her, and there isn't a more difficult audience than that one.
I love the bedtime rituals she has with the kids--reading, singing and praying. (Here, I begin bawling with wide open mouth and ugly snorting sounds). She is SO dear. (Hiccups start up).

I am (hic) so blessed (hic).

(Then I sit down because I am overcome with emotion, love, and gastro-intestinal distress).


  1. For the record, Sarah doesn't get bad hair days. Immune since birth.

  2. I want someone to say that stuff about me! Even better yet, I want to be Sarah. She sounds like she has it together and I admire (and maybe even envy) women who manage to pull it off while still looking graceful. And I love tuna salad with celery. I don't need the bread, just give me the innards with a fork and grapes on the side.

  3. Yup. You don't get better than Sarah. Unless you're me.

  4. Louise I admire how you are with your DIL. I need to take a few lessons from you.

  5. Ha! I'm sitting here trying to remember when I've made you a tuna sandwich...

  6. I have read this several times and it still makes me laugh!