Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

I stood there, absolutely beaming with pride, trying to maintain some level of chill, as my mother-in-law asked me for a recipe for the dinner I made. She asked me! She ate the food I had made by myself, liked it, and then asked ME how to make it.

For literally half of my life, I’ve called/texted/FaceTimed/run to her for advice on everything mother/wife/life-related and have often felt like I was taking so much and giving so little. I depended on her transfer of knowledge to help shape the person I would become.

She gave me everything she would have given her own children, and I could not have married into a better family

Even before I was her daughter-in-law officially, she was more to me than just my boyfriend’s mom.

She gave me stability and a sense of home when I was lacking it. She invited me over for meals when she already had a full table and many mouths to feed. She sewed things that needed to be fixed, gave me encouragement in my endeavors, and when that time finally came to actually become her daughter, nothing really changed because I already was.

RELATED: To My Mother-in-Law, Thank You For Loving Me As a Daughter

And when I became a mom myself? Oh, she was most instrumental in me being the mom I am. What an example of how to do it right I’ve had. She raised seven kids in a house with one bathroom. (Saint status, hello!) My kids would come to think she hung the moon and I always agreed wholeheartedly

Wow. How was I ever going to repay her? 

I knew this one measly, thrown together sheet pan dinner wasn’t going to relieve me of nearly 20 years of debt to her. The anxiety of just how large that tab was started to sit very heavy on my chest. 

What if she ever put me in emotional collections, and I no longer had access to the seemingly unlimited line of credit for support and comfort?

I started to tabulate all the things she had done for me, and my head started spinning with the miles-long list . . .

Meals she made.

Hugs she gave.

Hands she held.

Times she prayed. 

RELATED: To My Mother-in-Law: Thank You For Being More Than I Ever Expected You To Be

My racing thoughts started going along to the tune of “I’ll Be Missing You” for some reason, and that, in conjunction with the absolute mountain of IOUs I had compiled, had me getting teary-eyed. 

I turned my back in the kitchen and started to cry a little. The quiet kind where the tears just fall, and you’re able to play it off like you aren’t crying as long as no one is looking right at you.

At that moment, I wanted to get down on my knees and beg her to accept the quesadilla I made as an installment on a special payment arrangementthat I was going to make good on my outstanding promissory notes. 

She came up behind me and without saying anything, put on rubber gloves and started washing the dishes that piled in the sink. “You made dinner, so I’ll clean up,” she said in that angelic tone I knew so well. 

I heard a cash register cha-ching in my mind as I added this one act of kindness to the growing-by-the-minute list. 

RELATED: My Mother-In-Law Saved My Life

I know that even if I did think of some way to repay her for everything, or even a settled fraction of the amount I owed her, she wouldn’t take it. She’d deflect and downplay. She’d laugh it off and say it was nothing. She’d sneak my payment back into my pocket when I wasn’t looking. She is the never-ending bank of love. 

I wiped away my silent tears and said out loud, “One meal down . . . only a million more until we’re squared up.”

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Nickey J Dunn

I'm a full-time wife, mom of three, employee, OCD Irish Aries. I'm originally from the Pacific Northwest, now living in Phoenix. I'm passionate about my family, writing, and writing about my family. Mental health, anti-bullying, and body-positive advocate. 

The Only Fights I Regret Are the Ones We Never Had

In: Living, Marriage
Couple at the end of a hallway fighting

You packed up your things and left last night. There are details to work out and lawyers to call, but the first step in a new journey has started. I feel equal parts sad, angry, scared, and relieved. There’s nothing left to fix. There’s no reconciliation to pursue. And I’m left thinking about the fights we never had. I came down the stairs today and adjusted the thermostat to a comfortable temperature for me. It’s a fight I didn’t consider worth having before even though I was the one living in the home 24 hours a day while you were...

Keep Reading

He’s Not the Man I Married, but I Love the Man He’s Become

In: Marriage
Husband and wife, posed color photo

There is a long-standing joke in our family about my first husband. It goes something like this, “My first husband never watched football.” This is said on the rare occasion when my guy decides to sit down and watch a college football game. We both laugh because neither of us has been married more than once. Instead, this joke is aimed at all the ways we have changed over the years of being together. We married very young—I was 15 and he was just a week past his 17th birthday. Life was difficult with both of us still in high...

Keep Reading

Thank You for This Sacrificial Love

In: Marriage
Bride and groom, color photo

To lay down one’s life, according to the Bible, is the greatest expression of love. Jesus laid down His life for us by dying on the cross. God loves us so much that He sent His only son to die for humanity. As Jesus laid down his life for us, so Scripture commands husbands to lay down their lives for their wives. It’s a heavy responsibility placed on the husband to die to himself, to his desires, to his flesh, to love and serve his wife. A husband ought to love sacrificially, and that is exactly the man I married....

Keep Reading

I Hope Heaven Looks like 3128 Harper Road

In: Grief, Living, Loss, Marriage
Husband and wife, posed older color photo

Jeannine Ann Eddings Morris grew up in western Kentucky as the oldest daughter of hard-working parents, who both worked at the Merritt Clothing factory. Jeannine was the oldest of 23 grandchildren who proudly belonged to John B. and Celeste Hardeman. John B. was a well-known preacher who traveled all over the South to share the gospel. Life as a child was as humble as one might expect for the 1940s. Jeannine was the oldest of four children, spanning a 13-year age range. To hear her talk, her childhood and teenage memories consisted of mostly reading every book she could find...

Keep Reading

Overcoming Conflict Builds a Marriage that Lasts

In: Marriage
Couple sitting together on couch, color photo

I would never have admitted to being afraid of conflict back then. Not in my marriage anyway. I’d read all the books about how marriage is hard work and conflict is normal and I knew we were definitely the exception. But then at some point that first year, I realized two things: we were not the world’s most exceptional couple after all, and I was, indeed, afraid of conflict.  If we argued, even after I’d apologized a million times, I was very afraid I had failed. Like I had torn a little piece off our marriage that couldn’t ever go back. So...

Keep Reading

We Didn’t Go to Counseling Because Our Marriage Had Failed, We Went to Make It Stronger

In: Marriage
Hands holding across the table

There were three of us in the windowless room with its faded yellow walls. We were sitting in a triangle, my husband closest to the door, I in the farthest corner of the room, and the man whom I had specifically sought out, smiling serenely across the table from both of us. It was my idea to be here. After yet another heated discussion with my husband about the same issue we’ve been discussing for the past 10 years, something in me just broke. “I can’t do this anymore,” I said out loud to no one in particular. “We need...

Keep Reading

We Built a Rock-Solid Foundation in Our Little Home

In: Living, Marriage
Couple on front porch

I found my brand-new husband, sitting on the floor of the only bedroom in our brand-new house. His back propped against the wall, muscular legs extending from his khaki shorts, bare feet overlapping at the ankles. His arms were crossed in a gesture of defiance and there was an unfamiliar, challenging scowl on his face. Plopping down beside him on the scratchy harvest gold carpeting, I asked, “What’s wrong?” “This is it?” he mumbled. “This is what we used our savings for?” I stood up, tugging on his bent elbows in a vain attempt to get him to his feet....

Keep Reading

To the Woman Navigating Divorce: You Will Get Through This

In: Living, Marriage, Motherhood
Woman with eyes closed standing outside, profile shot

On May 4th, 2023 I was delivered devastating news. My husband no longer loved me, and he wanted to end our marriage. This was the last thing I expected. I tried to get him to work things out, but he was firm on the decision that we were done. My heart broke for my children and what I thought I wanted for my life. As it turns out though, this separation and soon-to-be divorce is probably one of the best things that could have happened to me. It has given me a new appreciation for myself, brought me closer to...

Keep Reading

We Got Married Young and We Don’t Regret It

In: Marriage
Bride and groom in church, color photo

In a world that tells you divorce is inevitable if you get married young, I did the unthinkable: I got married at 22 . . . straight out of college. We had no money and lived off love for the first couple of years in a cheap apartment in the worst part of the city. Black specks came out of our water pipes sometimes. Occasionally we had to take back roads to get to our apartment because police had the nearby roads blocked off for searches. Regardless, we were happy. RELATED: We Married Young and I Don’t Regret it For...

Keep Reading

But God, I Can’t Forgive That

In: Faith, Marriage
Woman holding arms and walking by water

Surrender is scary. Giving in feels like defeat. Even when I know it’s the right thing, yielding everything to God is scary. It also feels impossible. The weight of all I’m thinking and feeling is just so dang big and ugly. Do you know what I mean? Sometimes I cling so tightly to my fear I don’t even recognize it for what it is. Bondage. Oppression. Lack of trust. Oh, and then there’s that other thing—pride. Pride keeps me from seeing straight, and it twists all of my perceptions. It makes asking for help so difficult that I forget that...

Keep Reading