Locks of Gold

Family movie night left her in tears;

the story was sad and she was in need of comfort.

"Mommy, I always miss you the most

after we watch sad movies," she cried.

So we sat on my bed and I brushed her hair,

that long, golden, satiny hair.

Over and over again, the brush came down

gently through her locks of gold.

She calmed down and asked for a story.

"Tell me the story of the Eucharistic Miracle,"

she begged. And then, "Tell me about your favorite saint."

So, I shared the story of my favorite new 'almost saint,' Elisabeth Leseur.

When she asked to brush my curls

I gladly changed positions with her

and enjoyed the gentle motions of

the brush moving through my hair.
She laughed now, when she noticed that with each stroke

of the brush, my curls bounced back into place.

Now it was her turn to tell a story.

"Mom," she said, "I am going to tell you the story of my favorite saint."

And she told the story from the morning's Gospel, about

St. Mary Magdalene and her alabaster jar.

It was a story about great love, like that shared between

a mother and her daughter while brushing

locks of gold.