Somehow, something happens. Sometimes that’s hard to remember when you’re taping down cords or lighting coals or dashing down the hall to the photocopier (again).
Somehow, something happens. People gather. And in silence and words. Sound and movement. Stillness. Between the clumsiness and the elegance and the whimsy and the beauty. Somewhere, there, something happens.
And that’s the grace of it. That’s the Life in it. That’s the hope for it.
A space for allowing our humanity to be held gently. A space for wonder. A space to be at home. A space for lamenting. A space for hoping. A space for playing. A space for encounter.