Unconditional

Out of the winter blue I receive a text, and the text is from my sister who has taken time out of her busy day to send it, and in sending it and in what it says, she has given something of herself which is clear and clean and true to my recent thoughts – a gift, out of the winter blue.

The text quotes a writer I love, who says that God gives Himself to us in every created thing. So I stop, and look around, and see in people and places and things, what I’ve been given. Our food is the will of God, which is, quite simply, reality unfolding moment by moment as a loving gift.

By sending the text, my sister created a space for me to witness beauty in a shopping mall, in a bus ride, in a view over a rail track. She also created space for me to write a poem, and helped me notice something tiny and lovely hidden behind a wall where the bus stops.

The tiny spores or buds growing out of the moss took my breath away. A little colony. A tiny community. Delicate. Fragile. And, incredibly, host to an infinite grace in their smallness. Another gift on a day of gifts.