Gear up for more basement renovation. Put on thick old running shoes to shield against spiky carpet tacks. Wear a face-mask to filter out filthy, flying dust from the old carpet. Smile at the memory of Ephesians 6, “armour of God” and “feet shod with the good news of peace”. Savour the metaphor.
Welcome the plumber who’s plugging an old floor drain. Ignore the unexpected cost and mess. Share the joy of grandchildren.
Honour a Christmas amaryllis bulb that has persisted in its slow journey into two tall, rigid, lime-green stems and seven huge trumpet blossoms striped scarlet and cream. The ridiculous miracle blares testimony like a streetcorner preacher.
Enjoy soup in a corner Grill. Five women and a baby girl escape the cringing cold winter evening – bowls of egg drop, wontons, mushrooms – casual conversation about prayer.
Deal with someone's belligerent defensiveness. Rant to friends, analyse, read wise texts, sit in silence. Be surprised by peace and new perspective. Some boundaries are necessary; others can be dismantled. When Love wins, no one loses.
Settle into the wooden pew of a gaudy, yellow brick sanctuary. Eyes closed, listen to soulful acoustic-electric guitar in a minor key. Give thanks for wine and bread. Muse on sacrifice and community, past and present, divine and human.
Sink into a soft bed, relaxing muscles, sighing out tension. Give thanks for comfort and safety. Pray for those without. Leave tomorrow to itself.
