A Collision of Grace

I had never met the woman before but when she introduced herself by saying “You don’t know me, but I know Molly” I knew exactly which Molly she was talking about. Molly – the Molly that comes to the farmer’s market every week with four young girls in tow. Molly that will always make it up Pleasantville Rd. to Belvedere Farm on the weekend if she can’t make it to the weekday market. The Molly who buys a bouquet for herself, one or two for somebody else and then lets each of her girls pick one flower a piece. I knew Molly.

The woman told me that Molly had a terrible migraine and was at home resting and trying to take care of her girls. The woman thought it might be nice to go to the market for Molly to buy her some flowers because Molly wouldn’t be able to make it out that day. She knew how much the flowers meant to Molly. I thought it was so kind of her to go so far out of the way to think of a friend. I told her so.

“I’m Tiffany by the way” I told the woman.

“I’m Janet Beaumont” she said.

And then I realized who she was. She was Janet Beaumont of Beaumont Pottery. The lovely woman that so many people had told me about. Artist friends fill her shop with local art and photography, and other good friends drink warm drinks from her hand-crafted mugs. Molly worked there part time and always brought our farm flowers to the shop to fill the pottery. Janet related just what I was thinking,

“Molly has done such a wonderful job bringing your flowers into our shop. I know how much she loves them.”

I finished arranging and wrapped up Molly’s bouquet.

“Please tell Molly that we missed her today and that we hope she feels well soon” I said.

“I will do that” Mrs. Beaumont replied.

She visited with Ruth, the lady across the market row who makes the best scones in the world before she scooted off and into her car to make her special delivery.

What a kind woman, I thought.

Not even 20 minutes later four tiny ladies come waltzing into the market with their mother a couple steps behind. It happened to be the mother that buys a flower for each girl and a bouquet for herself and one or two for somebody else.

I was confused. “Molly! What are you doing here? I heard you have a migraine?”

Molly furrowed. “Yeah, It’s been a really hard day. I haven’t been feeling well but I needed to get out of the house to cheer myself up. It’s Mrs. Beaumont’s birthday today and I really wanted to take her some flowers.”

I paused. I got teary-eyed. I told her why. We smiled. I made her bouquets, gave her girls a flower each and told her she better hurry home.

What a kind woman, I thought.

And I stood there, completely amazed to be able to witness this moment when the grace and goodness of two beautiful women collided one afternoon in front of a farmer’s market flower stand.


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