I am writing again.  I have been having little moments that turn into stories in my head and that is what had been missing.  I had been missing the inspiration to go forward with the moment; the inspiration to grow the moment into something worth sharing.  But the past few weeks the desire to write again has returned. 

Last week we made the trip to Illinois to visit my husband's parents.  I love them dearly--his whole family--but I love his parents in a special way because they have been second parents to me.  They are a wonderful couple, great parents, and the kind of grandparents every kid should have.  But for all of the joy the trip had to offer there was also an underlying current of sorrow because Nate's mother is battling cancer. 

The week flew by more quickly than I had expected and before I knew it we were saying our good-byes.  It was especially difficult because, living so far away, we are never quite sure when we will be able to make the drive again as a family.  So distance and illness made saying good-bye even harder.  But there was a moment in those good-byes--a beautiful, secret, life altering moment for me--that I cannot erase from my mind.  And I have replayed it again and again, willing myself to never forget it.  Like a slow motion shot from a film, I can see the short scene play out and I am moved to tears.

I stood behind Nate as he bent to hug and kiss his mom, his beautiful mom who has poured her life into her children and husband as most mothers do.  The love he has for her has always been true and I know he wishes he could fight this battle for her.  And as I watched, she reached her tired little arms around his big, strong neck and whispered in his ear, "My sweet, sweet son."

And with those words she struck my heart, and I will be forever grateful.  In that moment I saw my husband through her eyes, the eyes of a loving mother. I saw her nurturing him in his youth, loving him and caring for him, and I was reminded that he is more than just my husband.  He was once someone's child. And I felt a great gift had been given to me.  Not only had this man chosen me, but his mother had handed me one of her greatest loves to care for and honor and respect and treasure as she had.  I felt a great responsibility to her, as a fellow mother, to treat her child as I would hope my own child would one day be treated by their love.  I felt compelled to do better, to try harder, to love deeper and forgive more, not only because of the great man Nate is, but because he was, and will always be, a gift from another mother to me.