The Mail Lady

The kids ask her what smells so good and she puts some of her hand sanitizer on them.
The next week she has left small bottles for all of them in the mailbox.
So they write notes and leave them for her.
Around Christmas the mailbox is full of gifts.
Then there are more notes and a little prize for when she comes.
It has become this sweet unexpected dance with our mail lady.
I am astounded by such thoughtful generosity.
When I ask about her children and if she has grandchildren the tears well up in her eyes.
She tells me that her one and only son is gay and she doesn't anticipate knowing the joy of grandchildren.
Slightly embarrassed, she goes on to explain how she's not sure where she went wrong and that they were at church every time the doors were open.
As I am listening to her, the pain is palpable, and my heart breaks right there on our gravel driveway.
There are no fingers pointed here.
All we can really do is love our children and be there for them.
We want to fix it and make it different but we can't.
That's why we cling to Hope.
We place our hurts at his feet.
We leave all of our unanswered questions in His hands.
We trust in his love for us and we allow his presence to mend all of our broken places.
We pray and mostly we just love each other.