I was settling into to being home after a long Wednesday.  It was dark and cold and our house, even though old and sieve-like, felt warm and cozy.

I glanced up and there was a masked man on our front porch, peering in the window.

After my heart lurched, I realized that it was son Jameson.  He is one of those winter bikers.  He is swaddled head to toe in gear.  At first glance, his own mother didn’t recognize him.

He was here to pick up his college books.  The wonder of used books on Amazon is great,  so having pushed buttons, said books arrived here and were awaiting pickup.

What a treat.

It is good to love my work.  Throwing myself into the sea of people on a Wednesday night at church is gift.  We have a church dinner that serves sixty or so people and at table I get a chance to catch up with folk about life and life always has to do with family.

Coming home after such a time to an unexpected appearance of my own flesh kin was so fine.

The books were unwrapped, stories swapped, hugs shared and he was off.

I went to bed feeling the kind of wholeness that comes with being able to see and hear and touch and sniff my children.

There are wonders aplenty in the world.

The fierce warm that is love is life kindling.  In the physical cold of a Minnesota winter, it sparks the heat of wonder.  In the sometimes emotional and spiritual stagger of life, it sustains, does love.


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