Holy Ground

Today was a busy day.  The farrier arrived at the farm at noon with a roster of horses to shoe.  He tends to my big girl every six weeks.  I'm quick to offer to hold horses while the farm owner and other helpers do other things, because I love to watch Daniel work.  A good horseshoer is a tradesman, but he's also an artisan.  Someone who has learned the motions can get shoes on a horse, but a true partner, the kind you trust and are willing to pay well, is attuned to the needs of each animal.  Daniel is careful to let Flash rest her arthritic back legs every few minutes, even though it slows him down compared to the younger horses.  I really appreciate that.   I had today's post forming in my head while I held ropes and brushed out winter coats. 

But my co-author, that sneaky Holy Spirit, had another plan.  I stopped at the nursery to buy mulch on my way home from the farm.  Ho hum.  I went to the register inside, placed my order, and paid my bill.  I drove around to the back to pick up my mulch.  Standing ready to help me load up was my favorite nursery employee.  She has made so many good suggestions for plants that will grow in our climate and that can tolerate the lousy clay soil in my yard.  I always enjoy our visits.

But today, she was exasperated.  As the two of us stood alone in the sunshine, she shared her deep worries about the younger of her teenage sons.  She has been a single mother for much of their lives, having just re-married last year.  The story is all too familiar: as soon as he's out of her sight, her son begins blowing off school and experimenting with drugs.  He's smart, but his grades are in the gutter. She gets startled awake in the middle of the night and lies in bed fretting.  Her thoughts go to the bad decisions he's making and the trust she can't imagine ever having again.

This is one of the true jewels of being my age.  This ain't my first rodeo, as we cowgirls are fond of saying.  I, too, had an out-of-control teen.  I have been that mom, tossing and turning, unable to quiet the "what ifs".  I can't fix my friend's situation any more than I could fix my own back in the day, but I can be truly, deeply present to her distress.  My family has made it to the other shore.  My wild child is a marvelous, competent, responsible adult, with children of her own.  She is an outstanding mother/wife/employee/friend/daughter.  I can share a success story that might offer a glimmer of hope to my friend.

At moments like this, when I'm trusted with someone's struggle, I know I'm standing on holy ground.  Time slows down.  I get a clear message to let the conversation unfold without trying to rush it or cut it short.  There is almost nothing more precious to me than to somehow, without my participation, send out a vibe that I am trustworthy.  I will hold your sharing gently, with deep gratitude. Isn't that what I've been asking for - to be shown how to carry out Your will?  I'm sure I've missed the mark many times, but today I was there.  That's all we're asked to do. Be there for one another. Thanks be to God.