My Mother's Hand

On our way back from an outing a few weekends ago, we noticed that the CD player on my 2006 Ford Focus showed two words: Low Battery.

Huh. We had never seen that before...

The car seemed to be running fine, and we couldn't find anything in the owner's manual about it, so we hopped on I-91 South.

I am thankful to tell you we didn't break down on the highway. Instead, on Route 9 in Williamsburg (the town next to ours), all the gauges on the dashboard stopped working. Steve had experienced this before in his mom's car, and knew the car was about to die. I thought quickly and said: "Pull it into the Blacksmith parking lot". He did just that, and as soon as he did, the car died.

Our car died directly in front of the door that my Mom used to work behind for almost 20 years.

She was the sole person in charge of shipping for the Williamsburg Blacksmith Shop. She did it all by hand- no machines- just wrapping orders in her perfectionist way (I do say that with love), using packing tape, and carefully writing out the addresses in her beautiful handwriting. This was the 1980s and 90s and she never used a computer to do her work.

She worked in a tiny hole of a room- no windows- but she had her door. She also had a screen door, and would get a nice breeze through it. My mother never wanted for much. This room fit her to a T and didn't bother her at all. I loved watching her work the few times I went in with her. She did the packing of the cabinet latches and coat hooks with a grace that comes from experience. She enjoyed interacting with the few other people that worked there (I believe she was one of only five employees). She was blue collar and tomboy, through and through. She wore men's button down shirts, Levi jeans, tan work boots, and smoked through the entire day.

I don't think it's just coincidence that we happened to break down directly in front of where she used to work. As I've said in an earlier post, I Believe. I Believe that my mom is one of my guardian angels, and that she, with the help of God, made sure we broke down in a safe spot, and not on the highway. Our car could have lost power anywhere between Ludlow and Goshen, and it happened to lose it right there.

I Believe that my mother's hand, the same one that braided my hair and packed latches and handles with such care, led my family to a safe spot so we would be kept out of harm.

Thank you, Mom. I love you.