Being Born in a Driveway

There's no trace of what this picture cost.  The healing I've received is beginning to erase the memory.  I have no need to recall it to you anymore.  This is my mother.  Today my Father clearly said "Go.  Today.  Right now.  I have things I want to pour out on you.  I can't.  Until You go."  It was then I recalled.  This day?  It was my parents' anniversary.  My father's been gone a year now.  My mother is alone. And she is not well.

I looked at my daughter as we drove in the car.  "We have to go there.  Now.  I'm getting flowers first."  My girl; she's game for my twists and turns.  I feel warm and proud when she doesn't hesitate.  She's fully aware of the price my heart has paid.  So loyal, she is, to me, but she understands my faith embryo that's growing inside of me these days.  It's kicking at the shell to burst out green and tall.

I drive up unannounced to my mother's house.  She stands still, leaning on a rake she was using to get up a stray leaf or two, a bewildered smile makes her face light up. I get out of the car and walk towards her with the ruby red vase of flowers I'd found.  The vase, especially, means something to me.  I was born in July.  Ruby is my birthstone.  I'm feeling like I"m being born standing right there in her driveway.

"It's not my birthday!", she says, the smile still there with a question mark.
Perfect segway.  Thank you, God.
"No.  But it's your anniversary," I say
Her shoulders slump and her hands cover her face as she cries.
"I didn't think anyone remembered," she whimpers.  "It would have been 59 years today."

We sit on her porch and my girl and I eat fudgesicles from her freezer.  We tell her what we've been up to.  I'm surprised at how easy it is.  How peaceful blows on the breeze as it comes through.  Today was well and good.  My Father is pleased.  I've made God smile.

Bless a wounded woman, will you?  I'm placing in your hands, her address.  Just tell her you're a friend of mine.  No matter where you live, what you believe, what color you are.  Maybe take a minute to send her a drawing, card, verse, poem, something in your own hand.  Pass this around; repost this and flood her with love.  Teach her to know that she still matters.  Do it for this healed girl who got born in a driveway today.

Doris Gray
16 Louis Circle
Cold Spring, KY  41076