sweet peas, grace and Jane Austen

While I do not feel much further along on the journey of recovery from loss, I must be making some progress as the impulse to blog feels stronger today. There are, after all, moments of truth and beauty that should not go unnoted.

I am staying in a spacious home, and there are gardens. Yesterday, I picked sweet peas and lavender and I made two darling pink and purple posies, for me. Tomorrow I may pick lettuce and raspberries.

This morning, I knelt at the healing alter in my church and a friend laid his hands firmly on my shoulders and prayed for grace. He used a lot of words, but I was a bit like the dog, Ginger, in the Far Side cartoon whose owner is talking to her eloquently but all the dog hears is, "Blah, blah, blah, Ginger... Blah, blah, blah, Ginger. There I knelt, dumbfounded by grief, and all I could hear was, "Blah, blah, blah, GRACE... Blah, blah, blah.... GRACE."

This afternoon, I read Jane Austen for four hours straight, stopping only for tea and crackers with mango and ginger stilton.