Neil and i were chatting over coffee in the morning that my mom would be flying to edmonton that afternoon for the funeral of a long-time friend and staying at my sister's house for a few days.
"Why don't you go pick her up at the airport and have a little visit too?" he suggested.
His suggestion made me uncomfortable. i get anxiety driving and i worried that i would barge in - when there is so much to be careful about in my family these days - and i'd make a mess where i long for peace...
But he pushed...
And so i texted my mom and my sister who both excitedly encouraged me to come... and by the time my little chickies rose from their beds, the trip was planned and Mollen was the thrilled child who got the golden ticket to come with mama for a 24 hour trip away. We finished our morning school and packed our bags - i anxiously went out to Neil's office for a kiss goodbye and he gruffly laughed at my obvious nervousness for a trip that he sees as a simple outing.
Then we were off.
Molls got to dj our trip and she started us off with the Les Mis sound track - and then she read Stories From Grandma's Attic out loud to me as i drove. We chatted and she made a comfy nest with her pillow and creature comforts as i watched the road and the beauty of the pastoral landscape around us. Her sweet chirrupy company was the most fragrant gift.
We were almost in Red Deer when we got the text from my mom that her flight was delayed so we took a little detour to Michael's craft store and found a frame that was on sale for a painting i had been intending to hang.
(Isn't it lovely? My brother in law bought copies for his wife and each of his sister in laws... if you look carefully, you can see the babe in the womb...)
And y'know... it wasn't a dangerous trip - it was a little blessing. A sweetness to laugh with my mom and my sister and watch Mollen get folded right into my sister's gaggle of girlies.
On the way home, at a turn in the road that brought back some tough memories from a previous trip, i put on my sunglasses and cried. My auntie had sent me a burned CD of the tape my family had made when i was in grade 3. i recognized every harmony, every pluck of guitar string... i remembered eating oreos in the recording studio and being moved by the song my mama wrote...
And so very many, many years have passed since they sang those songs onto that recording... and as i listened to our voices decades later with my own little third grader sitting in the seat beside me...
i realized that even though so many, many things change - the thing that won't - is still my Source of peace.
Oh, Papa - Your peace is here. It's not anything i deserve, or i've earned... it's just somewhere you've brought me these days.
And i'm so very grateful.