MIL

I'm one lucky bride. I've heard so many horror stories of the dreaded Mother In Law. I didn't fall into such a curse. In fact, my mother-in-law is as good as it gets.

The house is a little quieter tonight. Grandma Jane left for Iowa this morning after a week's visit. Solomon is a little less pampered, Patrick and I find our hands a little more full, the air is a bit more quiet and as always, when family and friends leave, an ache is left behind.

Jane came last week and buckled in for the ride. She accompanied us to CONASPEH, experienced the bustle of a busy school day, watched over her new grandson while I worked in the clinic, observed Patrick teaching his classes, helped with the food program and immersed herself in the buzz of the day. We introduced her to Haitian food, took her on a walking tour of the neighborhood. Like many, she was introduced to urban Haitian life through the lens of a car window as we drove by slums and mansions, trash piles and lotto stands. She now knows the little bit of crazy that happens when the Celine Dion water truck drives by for the billionth time a day, when roosters decide to start crowing at 4am--mere minutes after the street dogs finally stop their barking, or when airflow to the back seat of the Galloper abruptly stops thanks to yet another traffic jam. We shared a day at the beach and lots of priceless moments at home. We sat on the balcony and watched life walk by caring its wears on its head. Most of all, Grandma Jane got to know her new grandson who was quick to flash her his gums in his open mouthed smile or relax into a daze in her arms.

We are often reminded how truly blessed we are with incredible family. This week was full of such reminders. Patrick and I have made life choices that aren't universally embraced by all parents everywhere: leaving the country, working in a developing nation that can't seem to get off the State Department's BEWARE list, choosing adventure over a more stable existence, simplicity over more profitable and glamorous lifestyles, adopting a child of a different skin color (just to name a few). And although we know our families would love to have us closer, would love to be assured always of our safety and well-being, they have universally showed us nothing but love and support. And to top it off with a cherry on top, our mothers have ventured down on a trip that is hard or impossible for most in our life to take in order to see where it is we live, what it is we do, who it is we work with, why this place matters to us. This week Jane met the children in the street who we nurture helpless affections for, the students in the school who keep us entertained and enthralled, the patients in my clinic who challenge and endear themselves to me, the young pastors in Patrick's class eager to learn or to ask questions, our partners with their passion and infectious laughter, the people of this country who carry the burdens of their life with little complaint and mastering their misery with grace, a sense of humor and hope. And Patrick and I couldn't be more thankful for such a family.

So another goodbye after a week well spent. And I am full of gratitude for a visit from my mother-in-law, or "Bel Manman" in creole--fitting for me at least. I'm thankful that she loved Solomon, that she swooped in and made our lives a little easier, a little lighter, and a lot more fun.