It’s been one of those weeks, the kind where you know you’re deliciously welcome in this place called Planet Earth. It’s one of those weeks where you see that this world is but a slice of Heaven — before the better Heaven- — and this is home for now. And our Host, He speaks out across the galaxies: Welcome home.

It’s true: God went to the trouble of making this place spectacular, laying out a welcome mat on the whole globe. I’ve got a mind to pay attention.

See here! See how He’s  sculpted that scroll of field with holy hands, stretching it out like a lion’s mane, at dusk. And he’s made me a prospector,  so I’d see all that gold and want to scoop it like treasure.

And see there, the morning shadows. See how he made the morning shadow long at dawn, extra long and purple. I see myself, folded up on the side of the house, arms crossed and legs going on and on forever up the wall.

And when evening came, God went to the trouble of hoisting that moon high, letting it cut one tangerine hole through a velvet night. See there, that one single rock aglow in the light of something bigger and unseen. And God pushes it higher, higher, up over the barn, and over our campfire, and over husband and wife, huddled around flames with browning marshmallows and two chirping little girls on canvas lawn-chairs.

And then, just because He wants to, He shows up in all his spectacular-ness in the lobby of the college. Ten minutes ’til class, so I wait for my students, holding Perspectives in my hands. On page 19, Julia Kasdorf tells me about monarchs, flaring fields, startled flocks, and a sun that “sinks red on the ridge, summer done.”

Extravagance, I tell you. Extravagance in the galaxies and in the college hallways and in the poet’s words, and everywhere, everywhere. Welcome, He says. You’re wanted here.

Students shuffle by, past all that new art on the wall, and one young man stops a while, backpack slung. He lets it all rise up around him, and he sings it right there, one echoing song fluttering to the ceiling lights:

“ The sun comes up
it’s a new day dawning
It’s time to sing your song again
Whatever may pass,
And whatever lies before me,
Let me be singing when the evening comes… ”

***

A collection of pictures from our week here, some from the camera, some from the iPhone. All from God, who says Welcome, Welcome child. This is for you …

Writing in community with my friend, Lisa-Jo Baker, who is also speaking at the Jumping Tandem retreat in April…

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