A Soft Place to Land

The Stubborn Mule was rustic and inviting—decorated with old mining equipment, mule collars and harnesses, a few mounted steer heads, and vintage items ranging from cookware to plows…somehow more tasteful than cluttered. It was nice and warm in the diner, in contrast to the 31° temperature outside. A cheerful fire blazed in the stone fireplace, reflecting off of the copper lanterns hung over the seating areas. She found a small booth where she wouldn’t feel too conspicuous dining alone. But she needn’t have worried. An older waitress with bouncing red curls hustled over, bringing two mugs of hot coffee along with a seatmate. “Hope you don’t mind,” said the waitress with the name Irene stitched onto her apron. “I thought you two might like to meet. This is Diane Fleming, the owner of Journey’s End.” She nodded to the dark-haired woman at her side. “And my customer, if I’m not mistaken, is your new tenant, Annie Dalton.” Annie stammered. “Oh... Sure… I’d welcome some company. But, how did you…?” “It’s a small town, Honey.” Irene set down the mugs. “Word gets ‘round.” She bustled away. Diane sat opposite Annie in the booth and extended her hand. “So nice to meet you.” Annie shook her hand in a warm clasp. “And you, too. The cabin is lovely. I really appreciated you renting to me on such short notice. Thank you.” “You’re quite welcome. Are you getting settled in okay?” “Yes. Thank you.” Annie lowered her eyes, feeling suddenly tongue tied. Diane smiled. “Have you eaten all the chocolate stash yet?” Annie looked up. “Almost,” she admitted. “Good for you,” her landlord laughed. “My motto is: Hand over the chocolate and no one gets hurt.” “So true. I’m thankful you stocked so many comfort foods,” Annie said with a small smile. “I can’t tell you what it meant to have groceries already at hand. I…I wasn’t up to going out for a while…even to the grocery store.” “I understand. I’m sure you needed time to heal.” Diane studied Annie’s face. “You can barely tell, now.” A blush crept up Annie’s cheeks. Of course, their mutual friend, Susan, must had filled her new landlord in on some of the issues behind the hurried cabin rental. But Diane looked her straight in the eye, without any judgment. “You’re not at all what I expected,” said Diane, taking a sip of coffee. “Oh… What did you expect?” Annie eyed her over the rim of her own steaming coffee mug. “Someone much more timid,” Diane answered. “With a black eye perhaps, and a cowed expression.” “Well…You should have seen me a few weeks ago. The bruises have mostly faded now…” She touched her healing lip, as awareness dawned. Annie recognized a kindred sister. “You’ve been there?” she asked. “Yes. Five years ago. After lots of counseling and time to heal, I’m now happily married to a great guy. We live right here in Cripple Creek.” She reached across the table to touch Annie’s hand. “I know you’re going to be all right, too.” Annie’s eyes filled. “You think so?” “Sure do,” Diane said. “It’s a strange sisterhood. Maybe we can talk more about it sometime, after you’ve had a chance to get your feet under you.” She reached for the menu. “But right now, let’s order. I’m starving.” Irene came over, pulling out her order pad. “What will it be, ladies?” “What’s today’s soup special?” asked Annie. “Butternut squash. It’s pretty popular on a cold day like this.” “I’ll have that,” said Annie, after scanning the menu. “And the cornbread with honey butter.” “Make that two.” Diane closed her menu and handed it over. “Irene’s squash soup is the best.” Irene smiled. “Don’t I know it!” She whisked away the menus and disappeared into the kitchen. “Well…” said Diane, settling back into her seat. “How are you liking Cripple Creek?” “I like it. The area is beautiful. I’ve already met a friendly neighbor.” Annie toyed with her silverware. “Just one question…” Diane quirked an eyebrow. “Fire away.” “What the heck is mountain time?” “Ah-ha! That’s a good one,” said Diane with a chuckle. “Up here it means taking things slow and easy…just letting the day unfold.” She paused while Irene delivered the pumpkin-colored soup, topped with pumpkin seeds and a dollop of sour cream. She reached for a slice of cornbread, and paused to pray a short blessing over the food. Diane continued. “Mountain time is not having to worry about schedules and deadlines. Taking time to jaw with a neighbor or pet your coon dog. It’s learning the unforced rhythms of grace, like it says in Matthew 11. Taking your cue from nature with its unhurried patterns and seasons. Simply living the beautiful life God has for you.” “I need that,” Annie said. She spooned in a taste of Irene’s butternut squash soup. It was heavenly. “I think you’re going to fit right in,” said Diane, taking a bite of bread. “Mmmm, yummy! Try the cornbread. And don’t skimp on the honey-butter.” Maybe it was the soup. Or maybe the tasty warmth of the buttery-yellow cornbread. Annie had no idea at all how to walk in unforced rhythms of grace. Yet, a faint hum of hope filled her. Maybe she could learn.