So God Made a Mother is Here! 🎉

I hate stereotypical mother-in-law jokes and memes because my husband’s mom was one of my favorite people in this world. Always the life of the party, she quickly embraced me as part of her family, warmly sharing her traditions, recipes, and games. 

Normally, she was an excellent gift giver—for example, she noticed I traveled with toiletries in random baggies, so for my birthday she got me a quality, hang-up travel kit that’s lasted more than a decade, and she even filled it with fun-sized versions of my favorite products. 

Nevertheless, in the early years of our marriage, she suggested a gift that baffled me: a curio cabinet. And what made it worse was that she seemed to expect I would love the idea, like she anticipated I would get all mushy over the thought of such a lavish gift.

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

Even though I was in my late twenties, I had to force my eyeballs from rolling in my head like a teenager. I had to stifle a laugh, or in my most cynical moments, refrain from making a gag-me gesture.

Seriously, a curio cabinet . . . 

For what? My souvenir spoon collection? Or perhaps commemorative coins and porcelain thimbles?

But she was 100 percent serious, which blew my mind. In fact, a few years earlier she purchased a darker-wood model for my sister-in-law, a pricey gift for the new wife of her oldest son. And when we visited during the holidays, I marveled that someone my own age had knick-knacks and tchotchkes worthy of display on mirrored panels. 

While my in-laws worked hard to welcome me into their fold, in those moments I felt like an alien in some antiquey alternate universe.

My own mother never had a curio. In fact, I don’t remember any of my aunts or even my great-aunts or grandmothers owning one.

RELATED: My Mother-in-Law’s Legacy: Simplicity

Plus, I consider myself a bit of a minimalist. I don’t check bags at the airport. I donate clothes as soon as my kids grow out of them. And I refuse to buy junk that would just clutter up my house.

In contrast, my mother-in-law’s collections went beyond standard bric-a-brac, she had baubles for every season.

Multiple times a year, this woman changed up her special cabinet. And you can bet she dusted it faithfully. It even held a position of prestige smack in her living room, visible as soon as you walked in the front door.

Though I always tried my best to be polite, I’m sure she clearly got the message that I did not want a curio of my very own. And after a couple of years, thankfully, she stopped asking.

But then life happened. I had kids and matured as one does when suddenly responsible for other humans. My mother-in-law was diagnosed with cancer and fought a hard, stunningly short battle that ended when she was only 59 years old. And just a few years after her gorgeous light flickered out, my father-in-law passed away too.

RELATED: Even Though You’re In Heaven, Your Grandchildren Will Know You

Clearing out the home they lived in for 30+ years was a Herculean task, and I can’t take credit for much of it. But as I wrapped up the heirloom dishes and Venetian glass in her precious curio, I felt her all around me. Despite the sadness and despair, I sensed her joy and wonder at watching all of her little treasures light up and reflect off the mirrors. And when my nephews were ready to haul to the curb that now empty, tall corner cabinet with beveled edges, with plans to leave it out for random strangers to collect, I suddenly couldn’t sit by and watch it happen.

Nobody wanted that curio.

Except for me, who scoffed at the very concept not that long ago.

Today my mother-in-law’s curio cabinet holds a place of prominence in my own living room, in full view of the kitchen table where I do all my writing. I don’t change it up as much as she did, and I certainly don’t dust it as often, but I do keep some of her delicate China teacups and a framed portrait of her on display at all times. Heck, I even threw in some souvenirs from my own travels, including a tiny painted boat from Malta and a snowglobe from Iceland. 

And I can’t help but feel her love and warmth all around me whenever I look at it.

And I think . . . My sweet mother-in-law, you got me! You were right all along. Apparently, I did need a curio cabinet.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

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

Order Now

Jacqueline Miller

When not worrying about her teenagers, Jacqueline Miller is writing about them. Her recent work appears in Parents.com, HuffPost and The Christian Science Monitor. Follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

My World Stopped When I Lost My Dad

In: Grief
Sad woman placing a white flower on a closed casket

I think it’s safe to say we have all dealt with grief. If you haven’t, count your blessings. I, like so many of us, have traveled on the road of grief . . . an unpleasant walk. After several losses, I have been on different sides of grief. When your friend loses a grandparent, you mourn with them, for them, for yourself, for their family. But it doesn’t quite affect your everyday life. When your spouse loses an aunt after an illness. When your spouse loses an uncle in a motorcycle accident, you mourn the loss of a kindhearted man....

Keep Reading

It’s the Flower Food Packet that Hurts

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Flowers on a headstone

It’s the flower food packet that gets you. That little plastic packet with the powder that keeps your flowers alive longer. The little packet you know you’ll never use because these flowers aren’t going in a vase. They’re going on the ground. RELATED: The Impossible Grief of Child Loss Hurts Forever Buying flowers for my baby’s grave is a normal process for me. Every so often, and especially around the time of year we lost our boy, I grab a bunch at our local grocer. I lay them carefully on top of where his very tiny body was laid to...

Keep Reading

How Do You Say Goodbye to Your Mother?

In: Grief, Loss
Sad woman sitting on edge of bed

Sitting at a McDonald’s table in Charleston, SC, I looked down at my ill-fitting shirt and shorts. Stress had taken its toll, and most of my clothes now hung off me. I should have worn something else I thought, but how do you pick out an outfit for saying goodbye to your mother? I reached up and felt my earrings. They were hers and seemed right. That was something at least.   Within the hour, my family and I would come together to take my mom off life support. It was Good Friday and I managed to secure an Episcopal priest...

Keep Reading

This Is How to Show Up for a Friend Who Has Cancer

In: Cancer, Friendship, Living
Bald woman during cancer treatments and same woman in remission, color photo

One moment I was wrestling with my toddler and rocking my 3-month-old to sleep, and the next I was staring blankly at the doctor who just told me I had stage four cancer that had metastasized from my uterus to my left lung and spleen. “Well, I didn’t see that coming,” I smiled at the young doctor who had clearly never given this kind of news to anyone before. I looked over at my husband’s shell-shocked face as he rocked our baby back and forth in the baby carrier because I was still nursing, and we knew we’d be at...

Keep Reading

All I Have Left Are Dreams of My Mother

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Mother holding infant, older color photo

I had a dream about my mom last night. It’s rare when this happens but last night’s dream was unlike any I’ve ever experienced. I was at a party, and she just walked in. It was so vivid. She sat down in a chair, looking so beautiful, so young, her eyes so very blue. She was so full of light, something I hadn’t seen in a while. I just looked at her, stunned, and gasped. I said, “Are you here? Are you real?” I couldn’t believe this was happening. Just like that she got up, grabbed me, and hugged me...

Keep Reading

I Miss the Little Moments with My Mom the Most

In: Grief, Grown Children, Loss
Woman sitting on floor by couch looking sad

You think it’s going to be the big holidays that are hard. The first Thanksgiving without her. The first Christmas. Maybe even her birthday. But it’s not the big days that bring you to your knees. It’s all the little moments in between. It’s cooking a family recipe and not being able to call her to ask a question about the directions. It’s looking down and realizing you’re using the Tupperware you stole from her and knowing you can’t return it even if you wanted to. RELATED: My Mom is Never Coming Back To Get Her Shoes It’s talking about...

Keep Reading

“It Can Wait.” What I’ve Learned about Doing Too Much after My Mom Died Young

In: Grief
Family posed for photo outside

My mom died at the age of 45. Yes, just 45.  Around Mother’s Day, the reality of just how young she was hits me hard. As a mother of two young boys, I’m evaluating my own motherhood journey and in the absence of my mom, trying to give myself some sound advice for this next year.  My mom was a family doctor. She got her MD at the University of Pennsylvania and a Master’s from Johns Hopkins University. Brilliant, most would say. She was in generally good health, petite, never smoked, never had more than a glass or two of...

Keep Reading

Time Doesn’t Make Mother’s Day Hurt Any Less

In: Grief, Grown Children, Living
Grave stone that says "mother" with a yellow flower

I’ve been in this motherless daughter club for over a decade now. Most of the time, that still seems strange to say out loud. I’m far from the firsts without my mom. However, what I have learned, is that there are certain experiences, certain days, and certain moments that you can’t put a timeframe on. These are the times that hurt for so much longer than just that initial grief period. Big moments without my mom—anniversaries, birthdays, special days—but the one I like to believe weighs the most and hits the hardest year after year is Mother’s Day. RELATED: Mother’s...

Keep Reading

Can You Hear the Silent Cry of Bereaved Postpartum Mothers?

In: Baby, Grief, Loss
Crib in nursery

Trigger warning: post discusses death and loss The cool air shocked my sweltering face as I walked into the doors of Old Navy. My husband kept his hand on my back to remind me he was still with me amidst the summer hustle that was buzzing in the store. We were there for a shirt. A single shirt.  An embarrassing want that I was calling a need. I thought I would actually laugh at the situation once I got out of the house for the first time in a week.  Seven days before, I was lying on my back in...

Keep Reading

I’m Happy for You But I’m Still Grieving: Remarriage after Loss

In: Grief, Grown Children, Loss, Marriage
Coupe holding hands at wedding, close up black and white image

“I take you for my lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death does us part.” Remarriage is beautiful and redemptive. Remarriage proves that second chances are possible and that love doesn’t come in one specific shape or size. Remarriage is the embrace of hope as much as it is of love. Remarriage shows that love is still possible through heartbreak. But let’s face it, when you aren’t the one remarrying, remarriage can be a little awkward. Add in that you are the progeny...

Keep Reading