- Thank the person who tagged you & link to their blog.
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This time I did not stop my hands. I wanted somehow to comfort, to reassure him. He sounded so broken when he related those last words, so lost. Almost, I could not comprehend that anyone could say such words about this good, kind man. Not when he had been so hurt already. I reached out and laid my hand on his arm. Not like I was taking his arm to walk somewhere, but only resting it there so he would know he was not alone.We stood there, my hand on his arm, not looking at each other, but facing the bench, the rose bushes, and the mountain.Finally, I said, “Thank you for explaining so much. You had no need, but I am understanding much more now.”Slowly, Mr. Wendell reached over with his other hand and placed it over mine. He met my gaze. “I think I did need to. I needed you to know.”I wanted to be standing there forever, my hand under his, his gaze on mine. And that was why I slowly pulled away. I made my voice as kind as I knew how. “I am glad to have listened, then.” Before he or I could say more, I hurried back to the house. Too many thoughts swirled in my head, mixing and bumping like vegetables dropped in a stew pot. I needed to sort them out in peace.
|(A ghost mining town in California)|
The Lord is my light and my salvation -- of whom shall I be afraid? Of whom shall I be afraid?
|(Near Creede, Colorado)|
|(Abandoned mine in Colorado)|