Blessings wear different hats as they travel through our lives. Plucking them out of the daily grind is often difficult. Thanksgiving’s activities slow us down enough to notice their presence…or recall disappointing absences.

This is a story of two families. One began in Sparta, and continues elsewhere. The other left eastern North Carolina and remains contentedly here.

Kathy Lapish was born to seriously troubled parents. Her two brothers and sister were raised primarily in foster homes. Kathie’s adoption, believed to be “for the best,” was arranged before her birth in Alleghany.

Judith Lockey’s arrival in Sparta marked a new beginning for her, and the return to hills and mountains like those she knew as a child. These two ladies, strangers for years, are sisters-in-law.

But let’s go back to the start……

Kathie doesn’t remember much about her first adoptive mother, lost to a heart attack when the little girl was only five. Her adoptive father, Leon, married a schoolteacher some years later. This lady soon became Kathie’s very special “Mom.”

“I was a tough kid,” Kathie remembers, “and got called down more often than I should have, but Mom was the best teacher in the whole school!” Leon volunteered to help kids who read below grade level, claiming a classroom corner for their needs.

Judith Lockey is an easygoing, unpretentious lady with a ready laugh and twinkling eyes. “Butch” Lockey, one of Kathie’s brothers, moved to the Wilmington area seeking work. He and Judith met there, and were married in 1984.

Family deaths in 1990 led Judith to Alleghany, where she became determined to live someday. The visit also opened a shared trust about a baby girl who was given up for adoption years before. After Butch died, Judith moved to Sparta.

A few years ago, Kathie began working at a company I call on, and we became friends. One day she mentioned her having been born in Sparta, but little was known beyond her parents’ names. My offer to look up the records was postponed while she worked through a very difficult time. Her “Mom” was terminally ill.

Months later, Kathie raised the subject again and agreed to meet with her sister-in-law. This opportunity was passed along to Judith and scheduled for last week. Several days before this significant gathering, Kathie and I ate lunch together. She talked and I took notes. “Daddy was a jack of all trades and had a heart as big as Texas,” she laughed. ”He made a wonderful coconut cake, too!“

She also remembered hot weekend evenings at the dirt track where he was the one-man pit crew for the race car he owned. “We had a great driver and he won ‘Rookie of the Year!’ He wrecked one Friday evening, so he and Daddy worked all night to get the car ready for Saturday’s race. They won the season championship!”

On meeting day, Judith greeted us in her front yard, shooing away two large dogs that eagerly claimed this new lady visitor. A handshake for me, a hug for Kathie, and inside we went, heading for the dining room table and comfortable chairs.

Their conversation occasionally tripped over emotions before getting underway. Kathie’s questions were answered quickly and completely, adding pieces to the puzzle. When the conversation slowed, Judith explained how much the visit meant to her, holding Kathie’s hands and bringing tears all around.

Through Judith’s memories, the scattered family took shape. Sadly, all but Kathie’s sister, a brother, and her aunt have passed away. Judith’s family phone directory provided their addresses and telephone numbers, which Kathie jotted down for future use. The meeting ended much as it had begun, with a hug for Kathie, and this time, one for me.

Kathie followed me to a cemetery off Highway 18. I waited at the gate to give her some time alone. She walked slowly up and down the rows, careful to avoid stepping on any graves while looking for specific names. Then she stopped. I headed toward her and watched for indications that my presence was unwelcome at the moment, but none came. Kathie looked at her brother’s marker for a time, then moved past it to her birth mother’s small headstone. She read the name aloud and ran her fingers gently across the marker’s top, then walked deliberately toward the gate.

“What’s this cemetery called?” she asked, turning toward a distant sign. Respecting her need for privacy, I stayed put and waited. A few minutes later she came back and went straight to her truck.

“Thanks, Lon,” she called over her shoulder.

“Sure. Glad to help,” I answered.

Kathie and Judith took a giant step across the rubble of many painful years, and toward a very special sisterly relationship.

The blessings of this Thanksgiving have drenched me to the heart.