Welcome back! This is day 3 in a new endeavor here on the blog. I’m giving myself permission to play with words and rediscover my love of stories. Start with day 1 or jump right in!
“Hey, are you okay?” Mel’s new little friend asked as she wiped chocolate from her lips.
“Umm, I…” Mel stammered, unsure of how to answer. Was she okay? Clearly not. She was crying in a stranger’s kitchen. When was the last time she felt okay?
“B, why don’t you eat your cookies in the backyard and toss the ball for Franklin? He hasn’t gotten much exercise today,” the older woman directed her granddaughter outside before she had a chance to argue.
Mel felt the woman lead her to a cozy chair by the window. The woman sat in the chair next to Mel; they were so close their knees almost touched. Mel got the feeling she wasn’t the first one to sit in this chair like this. Surprisingly, the woman didn’t say anything. She simply sat, looking out the window, waiting for Mel to take the lead.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I’m not usually like this. Your granddaughter, she found me in my driveway across the street and dragged me over — I don’t mean dragged. She, well…” Mel was talking as fast as Belle had.
Before she could finish, the woman rescued her, “Oh, I’ve no doubt that my granddaughter dragged you over here.” Smiling she turned from the window and looked Mel right in the eyes. That was her undoing. Mel let it all go. The excuses, the tension, and the tears. The warmth of the woman’s smile unlocked a damn Mel didn’t know she had been holding back.
The remarkable thing was, the woman didn’t rush her. She didn’t try to calm her or get her a tissue. She simply sat in the chair, knees almost touching Mel’s, breathing calmly as Mel released all the emotion she didn’t know she was holding inside. None of it scared the woman away. She was simply present in Mel’s unraveling. There was no judgment. No need to fix anything. Just her presence.
After a few minutes, Mel took a few gaspy breaths. “I’m so sorry. I’m not usually like this.” The woman just smiled, inviting Mel to carry on as much or as little as she needed. When Mel’s tears slowed and her breath evened the woman looked back out the window.
“There’s something healing about tears, isn’t there?” The woman’s voice was as gentle and warm as her gaze. Maybe that’s what undid Mel. Life hadn’t been gentle lately.
Nodding, Mel let go of the need to defend herself. Clearly, the woman wasn’t looking for a defense. Something about that felt good. In fact, even though she was crying in a stranger’s house, Mel felt better than she had in a long time. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you’re holding onto until you let it go.
The backdoor opened in a flurry behind Mel and she heard her little friend’s rushed excitement, “Grandma G, the kids next door just got home, can I invite them over for cookies? Please, please, please?” Apparently, inviting people over was this girl’s specialty.
“Of course, but you need to take the tray in the backyard and play outside.”
“YES! Thank you!” The girl rushed around the kitchen getting a plastic tray for the cookies. Before Mel could process it all, the girl was already calling to the kids next door as she ran through the yard.
The woman chuckled and shook her head, “That girl is something else.” Mel expected the woman to get up and usher Mel to the door with a goodbye. It surprised her when the woman relaxed into the chair and looked at Mel, “So.” She let the word hang on the air as an invitation, a welcome to open up without the pressure of a question.
Mel didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead, she looked out the window at the girl sharing cookies with two other kids her age. She sat that way for a few minutes before she spoke. “I ran out of church today.” Her gaze never left the window. She couldn’t risk the possibility of looking at the woman and seeing judgment in her eyes. Despite only meeting a little bit ago, she should have known better.
“Well,” the woman started. “I wonder what made you do that.” Her words were like cool water on a scraped knee. Her response soothed something inside Mel and cleaned it out at the same time.
“I think I’m mad at God.” Mel’s honestly surprised her. She hadn’t realized it was true until she spoke the words out loud. She dared to look back at the woman to see her reaction.
The older woman’s smile broadened, revealing lines that told of a lifetime of feeling. “I’ve been mad at before God, too. And I’ll tell you the thing I wish I had known when I was younger: Being mad at God doesn’t change how He feels about you.”
With that, Mel exhaled for what seemed like the first time since she pushed through the doors at church that morning.
