It is the first day of May but it is not yet spring. Somehow a picture of a flower or a blue sky or a bright bird felt unhinged from the tenor of the day. So, I remembered this, the surprise of these colours on the pew of a staid, old church.
The warm flush of this unasked for gift comes back to me on this shallow day of small plans and unfinished stories. It reminds me of how I am hosted in the world.
Everywhere my gaze falls I am drawn into its welcome; by the whorl of the wood, by that old curved arm, by the colours on the seat like a mat hooked in heaven, by that quiet gleam of the wood at the very top, a small constancy that might at first be missed.
Terrible things have happened in the weeks past, things that have been trembling for years under the surface of the earth and in the lives of people. They call for our attention; they pull taut our questions.
So this welcome seat is not meant as distraction but as sustenance. Sometimes in the shallows or the terrors of the day we can turn from the colours of welcome as though by skimping on joy we could fend off sorrow. So take a moment; sit down in this wonder. And who knows what welcome you will become.
