also on wrecked.org

This Mom's Day morning rose cool and bright with ideas in my head for multiple blogs. But I could not get the website to work. So I left with friends for the country home of a mom and grandmom.

It was gentle and peaceful and solid and warm and friendly this place where three generations of women in one family sat on the porches and shooed away the big lumbering dogs and called for the cats.

A quiet comfort of familiarity - not familiar to me as much as surrounding me - created just the space to relax and breathe and explore.

A sandwich feast of continued conversation, family stories, and the comings and goings of the small herd of dogs. Dill pickles. Tea. Diet Coke and second helpings of loving teasing, stories only told when women are alone, and a thread of remembering - a golden thread that knits these strong and beautiful women together.

After lunch we moved to the front porch and swung and curled up for a nap and I enjoyed listening to the easy conversation of women who knew sorrow and great love and hope.

The air was perfumed with "Happy Heart" in so many kind and unselfish ways.

I ambled off to explore the short road between the front gate and the gate to the prison pastureland where inmates are often seen working in a group. There were no prisoners working today. Only bees buzzing and flowers cracking through the hard Texas earth.

No snakes were found today. Tippy ay yay!

Soon, my friend's mum offered to show me the old grocery store, post office, and railway station - each felled by time and neglect. Even listing and overgrown by vines and trees, the buildings at the bend of the road were lovely.

We walked to the railroad crossing, up to a giant shading sycamore tree, and up the hill towards home.

A few barking dogs later, we walked up the gravely drive through the gate and to the porch.

*  *  *

The company of women - a handful of generations represented - and all was peace.

A needful peace.

I let it wash over my brokenness and the betrayal of my soul.

And in their company my little heart healed a bit and there hope grew.

A little teeny bit.

But that is enough for now.