On an early, April day, sitting in the den, I watched the sun dancing with the dust motes, brushing the desk, the door and the wall as it made its way to sunset. I was hunkered down amid the shelves that groan under the weight of books that comfort, inspire, frighten, motivate and entertain me, recalling the months Tom took designing then making them for my biblio-obsession.
As I sat, nestled in the well-worn easy chair – does anyone else use that term anymore? – I watched the journey of the sunlight until it landed on the small, shelved mirror on the wall. The mirror has a small drawer-like shelf that seemed to be crafted just for me to put things, which I have done over the course time.
One of the items slipped into mirror’s shelf is the remains of a chrysalis, found a few years ago when I happened upon a cocoon hidden in the long grasses of our little prairie. After monitoring the little miracle (my neighbors must think me a tad “off”) I missed the emergence. I took the long stem and remains indoors and settled it into the small shelf drawer . You can find that story here.
So it was that the sun kissed the remnants of what was and what would be. I sighed, grateful for the reminder that out of uncertainty and chaos we can find hope.
There will be no palms this Sunday. No gatherings in churches, temples and other houses of worship. Whether Christian, Jewish, Hindu – our collective tents have their doors shuttered for the time being. They will open again, someday in the future. Until then, we must take care to not shutter our hearts. It may be a long wait, but, it will happen. Until then, let us open up our hearts to love, to hope, to peace.
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