Marti decided to write about her son through his new wife. It’s important to contemplate our roles in life when they are appreciated for what they are, and, as it always is with the Spirit, there are most often surprises when we let go.
Dear Elizabeth:
The clue to everything a woman should love and fear was there right from the start in the ironic smile that primed and swelled the archery of your curling lips. There was strength in that smile and confidence in the set of your fine nose. I watched Christopher floating free in the reflecting pool of your eyes that would rival the color of the sea if the sea were perfect.
I thought, “He has never met with such beauty before.” I watched. You did not hold allure, but grace, like the sight of land to a shipwrecked man. And he, who hadn’t been on a capsized vessel since he was six — and that had only been an overturned canoe in a shallow lake — suddenly looked like he’d been adrift in the open ocean his entire life.
I was never going to tell him, and was reluctant to admit it even to myself, but I’d fallen in love with you the instant you saw him. I noticed your view of him. It was so radically different from mine. You saw him as a man, and I … well … I see him first as a child. Those in-between-times, from childhood to adult, were times of knowing him, and then not knowing him, and back again, as he grew in presence and substance.
Now we see only a dim likeness of things. It is as if we were seeing them in a mirror. But someday we will see clearly. We will see face to face. What I know now is not complete. But someday I will know completely, just as God knows me completely. (1 Corinthians 13:12)
My perspective, unlike yours, began with a crying infant. His cries were like a dozen little ducklings stranded in a storm drain. And who can resist rescuing baby ducklings? Then there was his first bike, a kindergarden graduation, a sister’s forgiving kiss, a surprise kitten, a battle for honor, a first secret, a homecoming dance, a free running run-down vehicle, an empty room, a ritual before fire, and later, a salute.
Forgive me, Elizabeth, as I stop writing for a minute. These recollections bring a flood of memories to my eyes. They remind me of so much happiness, but what they remind me of most is the past, and an unavoidable ending — forgotten by him, but never me. But I’m getting caught in my own odds and ends here, and there is a film over my eyes. Let’s get on with your part of the story.
During his youthful seasons, I was better than airport security, screening for a wide range of threats, and patting everyone down before permitting anyone to pass into his life. But you slipped in under the radar. I didn’t see you coming. And you didn’t take him at gunpoint. You played fair. He hadn’t looked frightened at all. He’d looked dangerously fallen … in love.
Now, you are the first, you are the last, and ever since, it’s been the last for any other.
It’s no surprise that you would soon become a vision in a white gown, your blond hair forming a hazy halo around your rosy heart-shaped face — your lashes fluttering to touch his cheeks, and then your eyes opened fully and brimming with adoration. “I will love you forever,” I heard him say. (You better, I said to no one.)
Some love comes like the wind off the sea; some is built over time. You will forever see him as a man, and I will always see him first as a child. But in this reality, and through the reflection of your eyes in his, I have been given a very special surprise, for I have found that I love you, quite simply, more than I could have ever imagined.
John Fischer The Catch 
This line probably resonated with all the parents who read it: “You will forever see him as a man, and I will always see him first as a child.” And fathers probably think about this more with their daughters – my three will forever by my little girls.
This was beautiful – thanks for sharing.
Brian, what a wise man you are. Your daughters are lucky to have you as their Papa. Marti
I don’t always take the time to read every post, but the title caught my attention this morning. What a gift it was! If every mother-in-law took the time to give notice to her daughter-in-law like Marti has done, the world would definitely be a better place. Thanks for this post!
Rita, how kind you are! Isn’t it amazing how extraordinary the common day pleasures can be! Thank you for commenting – it makes my heart feel really good.
Marti, what a lovely tribute to your daughter-in-law, made me teary-eyed!
Me too. i had a though time writing this – John and I were going out to dinner, so I had to preserve my mascara by making sure it stayed on my lashes and not down my cheek! – Marti
And I’ll “third” that (Marti seconded it). What a wonderful gift to Elizabeth–and Chris–and us as well! Hope it inspires others to do something similar.
Like to add a big Amen to Marti’s lovely and very thoughtful letter – thx 4 letting us read it too…
You are one of my favorite people and so of course you would give me a nod of the hat. But let it be know I sincerely appreciate your encouragement always. Love to you always, Mark
Very heartfelt and beautifully written. As a mother of a grown son who is engaged to someone that brings out the same qualities in my son as Elizabeth does with Christopher, I could relate to the words you wrote. I could not hold back the tears welling in my eyes as I read todays Catch – Thank you Marti for sharing your heart with us!
Dear Ann:
No body set you up for the feelings you are experiencing. Of course you gave him up to God at an early age and have prayed for this woman to come into your son’s life since it was announced to you, “It’s a Boy!” But oh the heartfelt feelings amongst our careful tip toeing to be the perfect mother to be. My love to you and prayers.Marti
Thank you Marti.
Marti – I am at a loss for words – me! – at a loss for words…
Wish you enough
Kathy I adore you. Thank you for your encouragement. Don’t stop writing with ideas. I too wish you enough! – Marti