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So much time had gone by with no word…

a relationship sorely in need of repair.

She prayed…

constant whispers of pleadings directed toward Heaven…

For months… and months.

After space given, and much time apart, fragments of conversation appeared.

Then he presented her with an unexpected gift.

Not quite four days,

two trips,

and 500 miles.

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I need you to come, and then I need you to take me, he said—the younger to the elder… No… he paused… I’m not demanding… I’m asking… Please, would you do this for me?

All that way? she thought.

But in an instant, the tiny speck of apprehension dissolved—vanished—completely.

Yes, I’ll take you, she replied.

Her heart swelled at the rightness of his request, in place of selfish expectation. (And yes, he would pay for the gas.)

Of course, I’ll take you! Her heart screamed. Refuse time spent with a most beloved offspring, my firstborn? One carried next to my heart for months on end… You think I would miss the opportunity to have you all to myself for hours, after being separated by creeds and cultures and an entire ocean?!?! Of course, I’ll take you! I would drive you to the moon if you needed—son of my love, child of my womb.

Only a mother’s love can explain it.

So…

Over hills, round bends, past vineyards,

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Between pastures corralled by barbed wire, across rivers,

on straight and winding, narrow lengths of mile after mile, of highways and freeways and blacktop…

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From ranchland to skyscrapers and a missed exit… but a quick look at the map and voilà—Business Loop 80 appeared to take them in the right direction again…

He talked.

She talked.

Both listened.

Hours of precious conversation shared.

Where once tension mounted—this time, none.

Just the gift of each other’s presence,

And the blessed gift of understanding… forgiveness… acceptance…

He reached for her hand and held it, when her voice caught in her throat and tears cut off words too painful to speak…

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Maturing on both parts had lessened the gap between them. The closeness of two individuals with shared history, related, having common memories, but owning unshared perspectives…

Still at times the bond is fragile… yet, grows stronger.

On the last morning she stood at the kitchen window as he drove away,

on the road that would take him to a new chapter in his life.

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While she wasn’t free to pray with him, she prayed for him.

Go with God, my child, and may God go with you.

It had been a good week—a peaceful week—a most blessed week—for mother and son.

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