The Winds of Change Have Come

Our Mother hung our clothes out on the line

All year round

In the winter, clothes frozen on the line would be brought in and hung in the kitchen over our indoor line where the heat from our wood stove would finish the drying process

Our Mother loved the smell of the clothes fresh off the line

If you asked her why she would say, "Because they smell like the wind."

She loved the wind

Always when leaving the house as she stepped outside

Her first act would be to stop, sniff and taste the air

Sometimes she’d sniff, taste and move forward without a word

But other times she’d make us stop and pay attention

With a Mother’s authority she’d say, “Stop. Smell that. The winds of change have come.”

As a child, I simply accepted that sometimes the wind shared things with our Mother. As a teenager, I must admit to finding her way and manner of approaching life at times embarrassing and I longed to have my sweaters and jeans smell like Downy, the fabric softener all the other Mothers seemed to be using at the time.

But I marvel now

And I see the substantive gift she gave us

In her insistence in hanging the wash year round

In her rituals

Her stopping and tasting the air around her before moving forward, her digging in the earth every spring and summer and planting new life

Environmentally respectful, yes.

But it was more than that for her

In amongst the flow and flap of sheets and clothes on the line

In amongst the garden rows of freshly greening life

In the pause just beyond our door

Our Mother was showing us faithfulness

To her Creator

To her own nature

She was showing up…listening

Wanting to Commune with Spirit

And trusting that Spirit was wanting to commune with her

At the clothes line

At her doorway

In her Garden

In her Joy, in her Struggle and in her Pain

The Holy Spirit was alive to our Mother

In the elemental

In the Earth, the Air, the Fire, and the Water

That was our Mother’s truth about God.