She left her heart in a bottle

Last night, late for my standards, I texted a friend, more like family and could be my daughter.

Dads medication has changed recently and it’s been a struggle watching the process. There are so many side effects and watching the struggle is real. I absolutely hate it and all I want to do is make it better. However I am not a Dr. I do not have abbreviations after my name unless daughter counts.

When someone you love suffers, all you can think of is how to make it better.

That’s where the text comes in.

Tuesday’s are for tacos in Mom and Dads world.

Every Tuesday.

If Dad can put his clothes on, then he wants tacos.

Yesterday was no different.

I offered to drive and Courtney, Jack and Justin went with us and we met some sweet friends of Mom and Dads.

I watch as Dad struggles to get in and out of the car and thank goodness his taste buds cooperate and he enjoys the tacos he dearly loves. It’s obvious he’s not himself and I try to think of something I can do.

My memory bank thinks back to some oils Charity gave me when I was struggling with a cold.

What can it hurt?

I text her in the way home from dinner. She immediately responds with a list of what might help.

She tells me she will mix up a bottle and will bring it by.

I’m not good at receiving gifts.

Gifts of things

Gifts of time

Gifts of love and acceptance

However this morning I received a gifts of love from Charity.

She left a bag of oils on my front porch on her way to work at 7am.

She left a detailed description of what was in the bag.

She left so much more.

She left a piece of her heart in a bag.

She left time spent as she prepared love in a bottle

She left her love for my family

Whether or not we are genetically connected or not, she is family.

Family in the form of a beautiful, kind, caring woman.

I am grateful.

About Charmadawn

Jesus lover 💜 Wife of Steve for 36 years 💜 Mom to 2 grown kiddos 💜 BB to grandsons Jack, Luke and Patrick Joseph 💜5 years ago we purchased, Rescued and Restored a 118 year old farmhouse and we live together as a multigenerational household. Come follow our crazy. Isaiah 54:7
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