It all started at a garage sale. Do you know how many stories I could tell where the opening line would be, It all started at a garage sale . . . ? A local mom’s group that met at the First Baptist Church held a garage sale every summer. After perusing the treasures filling up an entire ground floor of a pole barn, customers took their items to a table up front for payment. On that table, there was a stack of business cards giving the name of the mom’s group with the days and times of its meetings.

I took one. In the fall, I packed up my seven-month old daughter and drove to that church. I didn’t know any of the women in this group. It wasn’t our church, but I never really look at things that way. He’s my Jesus, so any church of his feels like home to me.

As we walked up, the friendliest smiles greeted us. Women my age, and some older mentors as well. We got signed in and I hauled my daughter’s heavy car seat through the hallway and up the stairs. When we arrived at the nursery, I took her out of that car seat and Ms. Linda took her from my arms. As she did so, she sang. I thought I might cry. My arms longed for a rest, my spirit longed for fellowship, and how did Ms. Linda know our family has a serious thing for music? God knows. I went back down to where the moms were gathering, and while they didn’t sing in greeting, they offered me a hot cup of coffee and a muffin. It was more than enough.

To keep reading about my experience at a local mom's group during my daughter's preschool years, visit me at Her View From Home.