Last fall I searched websites for a welcome mat. I was looking for something fun for my daughter and son-in-law, foresters who live in Montana where miles separate neighbors. My son-in-law is an avid hunter and fisherman who prefers a day in the wilderness with a buddy to a house full of acquaintances chit-chatting about local politics.
I followed the rabbit trail from cute welcome mats (Yah, it’s you! and Home is where the welcome mat is.) through to humorous ones (Hi, I’m Mat. and Ask not for whom the dog barks, it barks for thee!). I eventually smirked my way through the satirical greetings (I’ll give you to the count of ten to get outta here. and The neighbors have better stuff. and nope). To be honest, I was looking for something slightly satirical that captured the independent ruggedness of a Maine-born, Montana-living hunter and fisherman.
When I didn’t find anything suitable, I moved on to other gift ideas.
Later that day I read “Reimagining Shalom” in the fall edition of the Gordon College alumni magazine, Stillpoint. The piece highlights the Kelly Connolly Palmer’s journey from social worker to artist and how Palmer’s former professor, Dr. Sybil Coleman, helped her navigate the journey.
Following an intense period working with a refugee assistance project, Palmer took a “soul sabbatical” and turned her energies to the art of hand-lettering. Two sentences in the story about Palmer’s shift from social work to art, confronted me:
Even though her tools have changed, Palmer is still working toward God’s vision of justice–something she likens to “shalom,” the act of bringing everything into right relationship with one another, where everything is given the space for maximum flourishing.
and
A friend of mine told me, “It’s so interesting that in a world where there is so much division, you’re engaging in this prophetic act of laying our welcome mats in front of all of these peoples’ doors.”
Bam! It hit me.
Without malicious intent, I had almost succumbed to spitting a little satire into the winds of acrimony blowing across the world.
Sure, a non-welcome welcoming mat is only a drop in the storm. But it would have been my drop. And it would belie one of the things I say is important in this world–grace.
God is the one who will fully restore shalom. God also asks us to do our part to bring shalom. That’s a bit of what “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” and “Love your neighbor,” and “Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God” are all about.
So, for this day I’ll attend to my part in at least a few, small, intentional ways. I’m going to smile more; tell any clerks or front-desk people, “Thank you for your service”; and follow-through on a promise to play “Settlers of Catan” with my nephew.
What is one small act you can take to spread shalom? How can you welcome someone into a moment of grace?
