"Goodbye hills! We love you!" Cody and I called out earlier this morning when we reached the stone church at the blacktop. It was time to travel home again away from the surrounding blue hills which we could see all around us. Now, we're in mid-Missouri again which looks different and doesn't feel the same. I never thought that I'd really want to return to the Ozarks again; however, life is simply so darn peaceful there.
I brought home an old sweatshirt of Grandma Cora's that mom saved for me. It's one of those that has a pleasant rural autumn scene on the front and a white collar with a pumpkin on it. It's so her! I snuggled in it last night, and Cody snuggled in it this morning. It's going to become our comfort shirt when we need it, for warmth and understanding. It smells like her still. Every time I thought of anything related to my sweet grandmother, tears came too readily. Mom talked about finishing her last in-the-frame quilt and seeing her needle tucked in with thread, waiting to be pulled through. How sweet God was to let her quilt the same day of her death!
Around this time of year, we'd buy flowers for each other's birthday. I can still hear her exclaim with joy. I loved her joy.
When driving back, I thought of some of my low faith sessions since her funeral, and it made me remember and recommit to her vision of faith, even during periods when mine seems dim. I love when the maternal weaves together a worthy cloth throughout the generations. My next obligation.
Have a wonderful day,