It's A Marvel

Growing up, the most magical place for me was the small town where my grandparents lived. My parents have known each other since they were small children. This was their hometown. Set along a river, surrounded by mountains, with train tracks and trestles to walk. The smells of burning coal and damp Maple leaves. I loved this place.

My home was 300 miles away, but it was here that people knew my name. At the small market. On sidewalks and front porches. That I wasn't a resident didn't matter. I was grafted into the life of this community.

Like the Dogwood tree that stood in my grandparents' front yard. In the springtime, it was showy. Annually, neighbors would walk past and marvel at that tree. I did too, partly because I hadn't taken the Science class yet where I would learn about one variety of plant sharing the rootstock of another. I just saw a branch with pink blooms growing on a tree with mostly white flowers. How strange. But how cool. How beautiful. And how life-giving.

This Dogwood became a metaphor for my acceptance in that ville. It's a metaphor for the Life-Vine we have been grafted into. And it's a metaphor for the continuing work of Jesus's Church in the world.

Friendship across difference.