To You … With Love,

I smoothed out the wonderful crocheted doily and laid it carefully upon my mahogany coffee table. Marveling at its pure whiteness that had held true for so many years, I thought of the small hands which had so gently maneuvered the needles and threads to create an enduring piece of beauty for someone she loved. It was a hard world for the women of my grandmother’s generation. Yet, there always seemed to be a simple plan running through it. Small, perhaps, to what we call our new mornings, but Monday was wash day, Tuesday ironing day and Wednesday was the day of fresh bread and it caused time to flow as softly as a summer cloud passing by, and I never heard her say she wanted more. That seems to stand out like the tall hollyhocks she walked in while the rays of morning sun dried off the dew from the pink blossoms. It was a full life. Adorned with days of gardening, canning, churning butter or pressing cottage cheese from the whey. And when the moments of rest called her aside, there was the pure white thread around her fingers as she quietly turned her pleasures into beautiful lasting gifts of time, which just this week I laid upon my table, with love.

Love surely does come softly, as the title of the movie says. It comes enduringly and it comes when the fingers of the soul reach out to touch the eternal threads of the simple plan of life that lives to love and be loved. From her I learned how unconditional love never leaves the mother’s heart and is so often given from the mystery of small scenes painted on the soul of another.

(In Loving memory of my grandmother Nellie Jane Yale)

Happy Mothers Day.

May God Bless

Rev. Richardson (ret.)