"I can NOT believe you are acting like this! What is your problem?"

"My problem is, son, that I don't believe you are in love with this girl. And now you've asked her to marry you? Son, you're the one with the problem."

"I don't have a problem. Janelle and I are in love. I don't know how else to convince you of that. We're ready to get married." Marc was desperately trying to explain his life to his mother Debbi.

"Married? Well I do NOT approve!"

"In case you haven't noticed mother, Janelle and I are full grown adults. We do not need your approval nor do we want it." Debbi's mouth dropped at that proclamation from her son.

"How dare you?!"

"No mom, how dare you?" Marc's anger was rising rapidly but he had to remember that he was speaking to his mother. "Janelle and I have been a couple for five years. Five years mom. We do not take this next step in our lives lightly."

"I don't like her."

"I never asked you to like her."

"And I don't have to accept her."

"You are absolutely right. You don't have to accept her however, you do have to respect her and respect my decision to marry her. She will be the next Mrs. Peppenger. There's nothing you can do about it." Debbi threw down her dish towel.

"I can NOT BELIEVE my own son is defying me!!"

"Defying you? Defying you?!"

"Yes, defying me. Never, in the history of this family have we EVER had a blemish in our bloodline. Never!"

"A blemish?

"And we don't need any bad branches in our family tree."

"Bad branc- mother do you even hear yourse-"

"What upstanding, Christian southern woman would allow this...this...disrespectful behavior and event to even occur in her family? I will not stand for it. I will not!" Debbi turned away from her son and continued chopping her tomatoes. Although a little more roughly than before.

"Why mother?"

"You know why." She replied as matter-of-fact as she could.

"I do know why but can you say it? Huh? Can you? Face yourself mother and say it!" Marc slammed his hand on the counter. His father Joe stood up from his position at the kitchen table.

"Now, what just a minute son. Just what are you saying about your mother?" Marc looked at his father.

"She knows exactly what I'm saying dad. Say the words mother."

"I will not."

"You have to. You have to know who you are." Debbi stopped chopping tomatoes and slammed down the knife.

"I know exactly who I am!"

"Do you now? So you do prefer the word prejudiced? Or maybe racist? How about bigot? Does that one sound better?"

"Marc, that is ENOUGH!! You've gone too far!" His father bellowed.

"I haven't gone far enough dad. Mom can't say it because she doesn't want to admit it. Your wife, my mother is a bigot."

"She is not!" "I am not!!"

"Yes, yes you are! You call Janelle every nasty racist name you can think of behind her back and to anyone who is willing to listen to you. Besides what has she ever done to you huh?" Debbi just looked at her son. "Oh that's right, she's done nothing wrong but treat you with the utmost respect."

"But she's black." When Debbi made that statement it was as if the word "black" left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Your point is?"

"She's. Black."

"So, what?"

"So what?! We don't need that in our family tree."

"I can't mother. Do you really hear yourself?"

"I hear just fine son. Did you hear what I said?" She asked staring him down. "I tolerated you two living together, thought it was just a passing fancy. I was trying to give you time for you to get your silliness out of your system before you try and settle down. But you have asked this girl to marry you."

"She has a name moth-"

"I don't care what her name i-"

"And if you would take some, get to know he-"

"I don't care to get to know her-"

"You would see that she isn't the sad stereotype you think she is. Jane-"

"-I can think whatever I choose to think ab-"

"-is a highly intelligent, educated black woman. She grad-"

"-She wasn't smart enough to stay away from yo-"

"-uated at the top of all of her classes, her family is highly respected in this city and state. They own several restaurants, a gift boutique and a law firm."

"WE don't need her gold digging hook-"

"Gold digging hooks? Mother she comes from money-"

"-In our family and for the love of everything holy, she can stay where she is!"

"Where she is just happens to be in my heart and by my side." Debbi, slightly out of breath from their argument rolled her eyes at her son. "Janelle is a classy lady, with style and grace that could overpower the most stylish of your richest friends. She's a Christian mother, yes a Christian not just someone who goes to church on Sunday. She lives that life; she prays for any and everybody who needs it. Including you." Debbi huffed at those words. "Face it mother, you're no longer the only Proverbs 31 woman in my life."

"Just what to you see in her? Huh? How is she even enriching your life?" Marc gave an exasperating sigh while retrieving his wallet from his back pocket.

"Love mother. That's what I see in her." He pulled out a folded, well-worn piece of paper and handed it to his mother.

"What is this?"

"Do you remember that young adult Christian camp you sent us all to as young college students? One of the classes they taught was how to determine who we needed to have in our life. I wrote down some notes when it came to who I wanted to marry. I was young but I had encountered enough young women to know what I wanted and what I didn't. Read it." Debbi reluctantly opened the folded piece of paper.

"'Dear God, I'm Marc Gregory Peppenger and when I am ready to marry I want to marry a woman with the following qualities:

1. Someone who loves You more than she loves me

2. Someone who knows how to make a home

3. Someone who cares for my family

4. Someone with a kind, gentle, loving spirit

5. Someone intelligent, educated, and has common sense.' So what?"

"So what? Mother, do you see anything about race in there or social status?"

"No."

"Exactly! None of that mattered. If God was going to honor my requests like that, I didn't care what vessel she came in. If she had been Asian, I would have accepted her. If she had been Indian, Spanish, Aboriginal, whatever. I would have accepted her because she was sent by God. He knew what I wanted and what I needed. Her name is Janelle Diane Bethel and she's going to be my wife. I'm happy, we're happy and if you can't respect that..."

"How can you even say that? A mother's greatest wish for her children is for them to be happy."

"Then why can't you be happy for me?"

"Because I don't believe you are." Marc nodded his head as his mother's words sunk in.

"I see that now. And I can't make you see otherwise."

"No, you can't. I will never accept her into my family." She handed him his letter, watched as he refolded and replaced it.

"So I guess that's the line in the sand. One day you'll regret not accepting her."

"I highly doubt I will son." Marc put on his jacket, took his broken heart and walked out of his parents' house.

Janelle was finally able to make it out of the grocery store. She and Marc had already gone shopping but she needed a few extra ingredients for a particular dish. Marc was sitting in the den, almost in the dark, replaying the conversation with his parents in his mind. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he had tuned out the television. Janelle stomping her feet to shake the residual snow from her boots brought him out of his feelings.

"Brr r...it's so cold!" Marc looked up at his fiancèe. "I wish I didn't have to stop but I promised Mrs. Jackson that I'd make that casserole for the leadership meeting and I had forgotten a few things."

"Do you need any help?" He asked getting up from the chair.

"Not really; just a few bags." He picked them up anyway as she hung up her coat and began rubbing her hands together to warm them. "When we start looking for our new place to live, I'm advocating for a garage. It's amazing how cold I get going from one heated place to another." She joined him in their small kitchen and began helping to put groceries up. "How was your visit with your parents?"

"Horrible."

"Oh, baby! What happened?"

"I had a huge fight with my mother."

"Oh Marc." She groaned as she came behind him to hug him. "How bad was it?"

"Very bad."

"I'm sorry." He placed his hands on hers.

"Contrary to her thinking, it's not your fault. She just will not come around. She is totally convinced that you are bad for me, our family, that this relationship isn't real. And I can say with definite certainty that my parents won't be coming to our wedding."

"You don't think so?" He turned to her and cradle her face in his hands.

"I know so. She made it very clear."

"Maybe she'll change her mind."

"I love your optimism baby." he replied kissing her forehead. "She was very adamant." Marc turned away to finish putting up the groceries.

"Well," Janelle said as she sat on a stool at their kitchen counter. "If she absolutely doesn't want to be there, then that's on her. I wish she would, just to be there for you. She should want to be there for you, to see you happy."

"I know. I wish she would too."

"I mean I want her to like me but I'm not gonna lose any sleep over it. We have to focus on us now."

"Leave, cleave and become one right?"

"Absolutely!" she replied.

"Aunt Dana said she wouldn't mind standing in for my mother. I'm gonna officially ask her."

"And if by some mighty move of God your mother changes her mind?"

"And you know it would take a mighty move of God, but aunt Dana would understand." He put the last item in the cabinet. "I'm gonna promise you right now before we even have kids that I will find happiness in every single decision they make. What's the point of wishing happiness for your children if you're going to complain and fight when they find it?"