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Fairytale Family

Once upon a time, there were these mommas spread out from sea to sea and they knew my heart about cozy blankets and pillows and non-rental colanders and even off spray and citronella for a Friday night southern wedding and then it was on my doorstep with salty tears and things crossed off my list….

Measuring cups that are colorful and a mixer that is special because they know me and see me and I can take these with me since they know everything was left behind…

Friends that wait patiently for me to call back about makeup and others that remember I’ll need those table cloths for the wedding remind me that God doesn’t forget my details and His burden is light…..

Sisters who take an extra 14 year old camping and brothers who stop and pray and hear tears and see the unsaid fears and worries and unknowns and remind us that we don’t have to know what we need that we will continue to walked with and carried….

Cousins that call and say I don’t have to say what is hurting or disappointed or grieved but listen as laughter and tears mingle uninterrupted…

Neighbors that wait to deliver a meal or have a return call and I understand when I admit it’s all just too much to continue with for the day or for the tomorrow and so they pray….

Homemade coconut scrub and a dog collar and bbq and cookies and popcorn because the ones who “hear” me everyday remembered and did the thing where the needs that seem like no big thing have kept the breath

Once upon a time there was this loss and grief and fear and it is being met with learning how to say,”yes, thank you….I do need you near.”

Jersey Knit Hope

Hope comes in all forms. A few years ago I had a couple of women help me find comfort in my skin, in my home, in my clothes. I’m not fancy or froo froo, but I have learned to matter to me and take comfort in my surroundings and choose for myself.

This morning I reached for a tank top. Then I cried. My tank tops were all gone. They weren’t expensive. Yes, they are replaceable, but they hung smelling like me and downy and my kids and sunshine. It’s not the stuff. It’s the comforts. It’s not the stuff. It’s the anxiety of standing in a store and choosing and the people and sizes and lines. Some choices were taken in the fire, like when and how to buy a pair of shorts or jeans or underwear because I left without them.

Tonight one woman who knows my closet and heart and anxieties and work sent comfort from her space, her hands, the smell of her cars, and closets. She knows what I’m comfortable in because she stood with me as I cried my way through trying on every piece of clothing a few years ago and said, “But how do you feel?” and “You are ok.” She sent tank tops and jersey knit skirts and momma jeans and fleece jackets. She sent fall pullovers. She sent the lifting of anxieties and some choices in my time that had been stolen 8 days ago. She gave me beauty for literal ashes. It may just look like stuff, but it’s knowing that He sees and He has provided ahead of me the needs and the comforts and jersey knit peace.