“I should not speak of it, but I was. I always pictured that the Almighty was a Heavenly Father. It should not matter if the Almighty has a male or female form. The Almighty is greater than anything we can picture.” She straightened in her seat as she said this. Ever concerned that she let her audience know that God, in any form, was nothing to trifle with or question.

“Mother, were you surprised?”

“Yes, Leta, if you must know, I was surprised. But it doesn’t *matter*.”

“It *shouldn’t* matter, Mother. But after spending your 72 years picturing God as one way, was it hard to change your perception?”

“No, because it made perfect sense, once I was here. Once I saw her shining face. It has always been the procession of mother to daughter that has been the strongest bond in the world, the most important link to how the world continues to carry on.”

“Was your life so very painful that it was a relief to finally be done with it?” Leta asked, feeling bold on this crisp, sunny morning. Asking questions that she normally wouldn’t ask.

“My life is not done. We are living eternally with the Heavenly Mother, Leta.” Abby gently chided.

Leta stifled a sigh. Conversations with her mother always went like this. She was so concerned that anything she said might just give her listener the idea that the free will she was granted would lead to free thought, which might lead to possibly questioning that sometimes God was just a big old toad with warts and slime and just because it was God’s way meant that human suffering could, for a moment overcome faith. It had always frustrated Leta to never have the opportunity to question. To wonder out loud the questions, that, in the end, might just lead her closer to the Mother. To the mothers. Her earthly one and her heavenly one.

Abby considered her daughter’s face. She knew what she was asking. She took a breath, and said a silent prayer that her words would be the right ones. She was always concerned with saying the right words, doing the right thing. Her daughter had never understood, but her granddaughter, Leta’s daughter, understood perfectly.

“I was pregnant with Grace when Glenna died, Leta. In those days, being pregnant was harder than it was for you. I was expected to stay in the house for my confinement. There were no clothes I could wear. Glenna got sick, your father rode for the doctor – but he had to ride far, because Dr. Welch had died and no one had come to replace him. I was alone in the house, so pregnant with Grace, holding Glennie in my lap. I rocked her as she coughed, and I held her while she took her last breaths. As she died in my arms, as I felt that I failed so completely, as I felt dispair and pain settle in my heart, in my very soul, for the first time, I also felt Grace stirring in me. I felt her moving gently as if to say that there was still grace and love in the world. I clung to that comfort. I clung to that proof that there was a God and she loved me, no matter what. I felt Glennie’s soul connect with my own one complete time, I felt her touch Grace and I knew Grace’s name for the first time.” Abby paused here. Setting her face into steady lines to show her steadfastness in this belief.

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