I read her words, www.growingisbeautiful.com, on a night that found me sleepless; the holes in my soul aching clean through.
I sat in the old rocker with my jaw hanging loose and gasping out loud.
Her words wrote my heart line for line, and it looked like maybe she'd gotten into my head somehow.
I left a small note in her comment box.
She came to visit me here over and over and over again. Always leaving the fragrance of encouragement and love. Knowing the cost. Understanding. Holding my hand.
And when it really seemed like I couldn't draw one more breath, I received a gift in the real, actual mail.
A knitted lace shawl tumbled out like a wide ribbon of laughter, and blue joy ruffles rippled all around the outside edge. (How did she know that I love ruffles?) I held it up to a grey sky, and azure flowers danced on low clouds. I wrapped it around my shoulders. Sat down hard. Cried and cried and cried.
Her hands made this for me.
They held my life in them for months, and I imagine her fingers flying over delicate skeins, knitting this blue, and stitching my heart together by holding it in hers. What kind of woman does that? What kind of love is that? We've never-ever met! Her gorgeous lace crowns my shoulders with heaven, and makes me look like a queen. (How did she know that's just what I needed?) I want so to kiss the hands that have brought me such a gift, at such a time, with such love. This blue, the exact color of my dreams, and all its beauty takes my breath. I won't take it off, and it's a few days before I notice it... the lace.
It's got holes clean through, see?