There is an abundance of blossoms in the Bridal Wreath this year.
A veil of white covering sagging stems.
I try to search out ways in which mom can be helped at this late hour, somehow there must be some alternative treatment, something that can pull her back to us. Visions of mom and dad in a pleasant quiet home with lovely gardens come to mind. Birds and blooms and books. Quiet and peaceful.
But the place God is preparing is better than anything I could imagine. The garment of white awaits her. And we are quiet and at peace.
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