My youngest son and I talked about Tevye, the dad in Fiddler on the Roof. When his daughter married a Russian, he disowned her, said she was dead. I realized that my husband's parents had the opportunity to make that decision, and they chose to forgive and help us.

My future husband had drunk so much and goofed off and was in debt and wrote bad checks. The capper was: he went through college graduation, and when his parents congratulated him, he told them he had not finished his classes and was asked to leave college. His father threw up his hands and wouldn't speak to him. My future husband stayed in central Pennsylvania, where the missionaries found him. He listened, changed his ways, and joined a cult! His parents were probably horrified that he became a Mormon, but his mother was grateful he was sober. When three years after that college fiasco, he wanted to stay with them for a month while he looked for a job, bringing his new wife and baby (me and our eldest son) sight unseen, they let us in! I stayed with them for a month. Then a year later when he lost his job, and I totaled the car and was on bedrest during my second pregnancy, they let us stay with them for six months. They gave us their used car and bought a newer one for themselves. They then helped us move into his grandmother's house, which was empty. We lived there a couple years; two more children were born while we lived in that house, rent-free. My husband's mother loved us, loved our children, kept praying hard as we kept having more children without a large income. She bought used clothes and shoes at the Salvation Army and Goodwill so our children would have clothes to wear. I thanked her and loved her, and loved Pappap, her husband, though he was considerably more prickly, harder to get to know. He was patient with us, and absolutely loved to take our eldest son on walks with him.

We are so blessed. I’m grateful for their examples of love and forgiveness.