A Welcomer of New-Born Days

I had quince jelly on toast today

saw a snake today

climbed a hill

I learned that Tasha likes to walk on the left,

that she might au pair for a family with cats she’s allergic to,

that heather is purple

I spoke on the phone and by skype to people I love,

thought about being in a transitional place,

how unsettling not being settled is.

On the train I read a poem by Mary Lamb about breakfast,

‘that welcomer of new-born days’

and I yearned to hold that description by my name.

Later as I hung washing out I felt frustrated –

I am not good at holding

silence.

This week I have been going through a series by John Piper about God’s glory.

Which is a phrase that sounds to me, Grand and therefore Unreal

so maybe the ‘wonder of all the goodness and grace of life and creation, the love

that is found and is originated in God and displayed in Christ’

is better because I know the Realness of that,

– but then that is a mouthful.

As I was finding the silence hard,

and realising my hands still smelled of the onions I chopped for lunch with Tasha,

I tried to rest with remembering that my being here

is part of the display of God’s glory,

and then I started thinking of all the small,

wondrous,

parts of my single day,

and I thought, maybe I will write them down to remember

as a way of also recording

the beauty of living in a world such as this,

that tomorrow I get to be a welcomer of a new-born day.