People offer, and then they show up on the day. I go out with him to greet them, to thank them.
As he gets into their car, they come round the back of the vehicle, maps fluttering in their hands, in the morning light, nervous, willing. Having decided they were going to give this day of theirs to him. To bring him and stay and wait and then bring him home. Shepherds. Showing up. I can see the feelings move across their faces, as I say "Ah, the directions, he's got that one down. Don't worry. And thank you."
And they look up, smile at me, and we both know. That it's not an easy thing to do, what they all are offering. But for the grace, and all that. And more.
Yet, here they are, coming round on the right day, accompanying, regaling, falling quiet when he dozes on the way home.
Bearing the weight, with us, of the moment. Of the hope and the possibility; and then the day.
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