Holidays bring memories. My mother-in-law loved the Christmas season. Decorations, special meals, kolaches, and presents. No one enjoyed giving presents as much as she did.

And we shared a birthday—what fun that had. I still miss her most on our birthday. This is a poem I wrote for her and shared it with her friends at the senior center where she lived. They sang “Happy Birthday” to the both of us afterwards.

If movies were true
and TV shows,
the best thing to do,
as everyone knows,
is to avoid your mother-in-law.

But for me, I’ve found
I like having her around.

She has a good sense of humor
and likes to play games;
though she usually wins,
I don’t call her names
except Mom and Grandma Lucy.

She loves to give presents.
Come to my house
and there you will see
in every room
something of Lucy.

Delft dishes in the kitchen,
a table and chairs,
clothes in my closet,
a rocking chair downstairs.

She gives me pictures
cross stitched just so
and for my last birthday
a gift card to Smokey Row.

She’s given me love,
acceptance,
encouragement,
and joy.

But the best gift she’s given
is the man we adore,
the son she raised to love Jesus
and, yet, there’s still more.

We share the same birthday,
so your Happy Birthday to You,
is not just for Lucy
and others with birthdays this spring.
You sing it for me, too.