They were young and old alike. Some with little ones... some with well earned wrinkles that kissed their hopeful believing eyes. Women... waiting, wondering, worrying. Doing life alone. Living without their husbands and sons. Bandaging elbows and kissing little cheeks. Tucking in alone after all the bed time rituals are over. Mother's who pray and trust their little boys will come home safely. Wives who desperately long for their men.
All of them worthy of recognition.
It seems like such a small token... a simple meal, if even in a pretty setting. They came, many of them alone. They were strong. Sitting briefly as strangers, and leaving on that lovely afternoon as sisters. They were grateful, these women are, for the simplest of things.
Watching young moms envelop themselves in the lives of their babies, I wondered about the comfort the act of mothering may have brought some of them. Listening as they opened their lives to one another. What an amazing display of mature composure and faithful patience, as they proudly spoke of the details regarding their own soldiers. They shared the bond of hope.
How does if feel to be so deeply concerned, so lonely, yet so proud.
It was a privilege to serve them lemonade and clear their pretty dessert plates. To have been in their presence for a few short hours opened my eyes to the beauty, strength and bond of these very special women. I am filled with admiration.
How is it that something so sacrificial has become so small, so overlooked, so forgotten?
1 comment:
What a neat post... how did you get to be involved with this special event? Seems it was truly an honor.
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