When I opened my back door this morning, the first thing I saw sitting on the step was an old pot filled with some just-picked apples, an unexpected gift from my neighbor. Such a small, simple offering but immediately I felt a chrysanthemum of joy blossom in my chest like a tiny firework. A much needed tiny firework chrysanthemum of joy, for the previous day had been a difficult one.
This is the power of gifts, especially spontaneous ones that aren't given out of obligation or ceremony but from a place of kinship. A gift that, in my case at least, spoke of welcome and belonging, and painted the moment a bright, encouraging hue. A true blessing.