So God Made My Father-in-Law - Her View From Home

A Gift for Mom! 🤍

God looked down and thought, “I need someone who is willing . . . willing to provide the fatherly love, support, and strength this woman so desperately needs.”

So God made my father-in-law.

He knew my heart was shattered after losing my father to tongue cancer so he gave me someone who would show me how to let go of my anger by showering me with unconditional love. Someone who accepted me for me. Someone who would help me reunite with my love affair with food. Someone who would sit at the table with me and become my new recipe taste tester. Someone who would brag to all of his friends about my cooking, regardless of how bad it was. Someone who was proud of me and the love his son and I have. Someone who was beaming with pride the day I became his son’s wife.

So, God made my father-in-law.

God said, “I need someone to help heal this fatherless woman’s broken heart, someone who is tough enough to wield a machete and gentle enough to understand his new daughter-in-law is mourning the loss of her beloved father. Someone who will treat her like his own daughter and never like an in-law.”

So, God made my father-in-law.

I need someone to notice practical things, like how she needs to get a bigger vehicle after being in a horrific car accident while gently reassuring her that everything will be OK. I need someone who is strong enough to guide her when she is terrified to drive again, yet gentle enough to understand the trauma of her accident is what is holding her back.

So, God made my father-in-law.

God said, “I need someone who listens more than he speaks. Someone who has a smile that lights up the room. Someone who will love his family during the good and the bad times, someone who loves his family unconditionally.”

So, God made my father-in-law.

He knew after losing my father I needed to let go of my anger, heal my heart, and grow tolerance and compassion. He knew I needed to learn how to how make peace, accept others for who they are, and to compromise.

So, God made my father-in-law.

He knew I needed someone who would show me where my husband received his greatness from, someone who would be a mirror image of my husband as we would grow old together.

So, God made my father-in-law.

God would watch our family each Thanksgiving and laugh, He knew our family needed someone to carve the turkey because the son was not very good at it despite all the YouTube videos he would watch each holiday.

So, God made my father-in-law.

A father is the first hero a son or daughter will know. His influence lasts much longer than life.

God created a father to be a living, breathing display of who He is; a leader, a protector, and a provider. While some are not with us for as long as we would like, they live on in our hearts.

This Thanksgiving, we will miss my incredible father-in-law at our dinner table. Thanksgiving will continue to be a time of giving as we carry on his spirit. The image of my father-in-law ‘s infectious smile and his endless jokes will remain in our hearts. Every new tradition we form will have his spirit woven into the foundation. He will live on through the stories we tell our family.

This holiday season, give your father or your father-in-law a call, hug him and appreciate him.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

extended family Family father-in-law God Grief in-laws so god made Thanksgiving

Lisa Ingrassia

Lisa Ingrassia is a writer and grief advocate whose work centers on loss, faith, and resilience. She is a former blogger for HuffPost and a columnist for BeliefNet, she currently serves as a monthly contributor for Family Christian. Lisa is also the founder of A Daughter's Love, a community dedicated to honoring grief and enduring the bond between loved ones.

I’m Constantly Waiting for the Metaphorical Axe To Fall

In: Living

Woman worried with head in lap

I knew people died. I just didn’t think it applied to us. Mortality met me in grade two with a punch to the gut when my teacher confirmed casually that, yes, everybody dies. What do you mean, everybody dies? I frantically thought, but kept my question to myself. Up until that moment, I had quietly believed my family was exempt from that fate. I thought death was a monster that only took other people and left my family alone. They say all panic has an origin story, and mine began shortly after that realization, fueled by a disconnected phone cord...

Keep Reading

The Apology You Deserve May Never Come

In: Living

Woman standing in field wearing hat

“You have to accept that you will likely never get the apology you deserve.” When my therapist said those words, I felt everything at once-anger, resentment, heartbreak. It was as if the air had been pulled straight from my lungs. Because accepting that truth meant letting go of something I had been holding onto for a long time: the hope that one day, it would all be acknowledged. My family was deeply wronged. Not in a way that can be brushed off or easily forgotten, but in a way that cut to the core. There were lies wrapped in deception,...

Keep Reading

To the Little Girl With Pink Flowers on Her Shoes and Courage in Her Heart

In: Living

Little girl in t-ball outfit

To the little girl with pink flowers on her white shoes and lacy fold-down socks, down and ready, tee ball glove in hand, teeth marks worn into the top. The Pittsburgh Pirates hat from Uncle Dave, a sign of camaraderie. A part of something bigger than herself. A too-long, locally sponsored t-shirt, tied up with a ponytail. Jean shorts and a belt. The type of ordinary only childhood can be. When ordinary is more than enough. No one can tell in this picture that you were scared. That you didn’t feel ready. That behind that tiny-toothed grin you were holding...

Keep Reading

Keep Searching for the Perfect Pair of Jeans

In: Living

Woman shopping for jeans

I don’t know about you, but finding a good pair of jeans has always felt like a process to me. These are too tight. Those are too loose. They fit my thighs but bunch at my hips. The dreaded waist gap. Too short—high waters. Too long, and suddenly you can’t find your legs. Before you know it, you’re ordering your fourth pair and eyeing a fifth. A woman on a mission. And still, as I stand there looking in the mirror at everything that doesn’t quite work, I just know there is a perfect pair out there for me. Somewhere....

Keep Reading

Why I Had My Benign Breast Lumps Removed

In: Living

Doctor examines mammogram images

My journey with monitoring benign breast lumps began in July of 2020 when my OB-GYN found a lump. I was sent home with an ultrasound referral. I called immediately after I got home and asked for the soonest appointment at any location. I had a young son, and was absolutely terrified. They got me in at the end of the week. My husband was on vacation that week, and what should have been an enjoyable family time was plagued with worry. At the ultrasound appointment, they saw two small lumps. I was told these were “likely benign” and was given...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living

Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

Farewell To the Bus Stop Moms

In: Friendship

Four women pose in residential street

It seems like just yesterday I was writing a piece about my last baby going off to kindergarten. I poured my heart out into words about how she was going to find her place in the world, and how I was going to find a new sense of belonging. I wrote, “I was able to find a bit of ‘me’ again. She has barely left my side in almost six years, so her absence is still fresh and foreign. But I know her jubilant little self will be just fine. And just like that, she’s on her way. And so...

Keep Reading

May is Maternal Mental Health Month, and So Many Moms Are Quietly Drowning

In: Living

Mother with baby strapped to chest

I’ve given birth to four beautiful boys and lived through four postpartum experiences. Each one has been different, yet there are familiar threads that run through them all. In the first couple of weeks after my first baby was born, I felt carefree…until that bubble was popped. My newborn got sick and was admitted to the PICU at a children’s hospital 30 minutes from our home. At one point, doctors mentioned the possibility of meningitis, but after many tests and a several-day admission, we were sent home. When we were discharged, a doctor left me with these words, “It’s your...

Keep Reading

The Hard Truth about Friendship in Your 40s

In: Friendship

Two people fishing on a dock

No one can really prepare you for how much friendships change in your 40s. We expect life shifts—kids grow, schedules fill, jobs demand more, and aging parents need us in new ways. Time becomes tighter, priorities change, and naturally, friendships have to adjust. That part makes sense, right? But what doesn’t get talked about enough is the quiet, hard shift, the one where it’s not just time or distance creating friendship gaps, but something deeper. What happens when you look around your “table” and realize it no longer feels like a safe place to land? What happens when you start...

Keep Reading

Sisterhood is So Special

In: Living

Vintage photo of sisters in pajamas

There’s something about sisterhood that’s so special. It’s having someone who’s seen every version of you—every awkward, messy, beautiful version—and loves you through it. Someone who holds a piece of your heart in a way nobody else can. Someone who remembers the little things that made you…you. And my sister? She’s that person for me. We couldn’t be more different. She’s extroverted, the life of the party, spontaneous, the more the merrier, always seeing the good in everything. I’m the cautious one, the loner, the guarded one, more comfortable sitting on the sidelines. I’ve always admired her and secretly wished...

Keep Reading

Previous Post

To the Mama With Toxic Parents, I See You

To the Mama With Toxic Parents, I See You

Next Post

Moms Spend All Day Doing Things That Never Get Done

Moms Spend All Day Doing Things That Never Get Done