Space and sanctuary @ Greatfield

This afternoon, clutching mugs of hot tea in St Hilda's porchway, looking out at the rain with Rev Lindsay. Listening to the gulls, the cars, the shoppers nearby. 

Hearing about the flower shop across the way, going from strength to strength in just two years. 

Appreciating the skeleton trees and the hope they hold for Spring - the pink blossom waiting within.

Inside the hall is silent. After a full-on weekend of festivities. A fayre, a Christingle, Sunday service and a Christmas meal. Now waiting for the dance class in an hour or so.

A building full of nooks and crannies. Clothes and nick nacks for the pop-up shop. Boxes of donated toys poised for the Christmas giveaway on Saturday. 

The sense of gentle generosity. Of this being a place of welcome when it's all a bit too much. Or not enough. 

A grace space. 

Later, we brave it and go out in the rain. Pop in to the flower shop, walk the streets nearby, take shelter in St Stephen's community centre. Where Lindsay is known. And chats away whilst I wander and take photos and then shriek when an old friend walks in. 

Giddy in the joy of a flowy peopley day, I take a photo of Lindsay and one of the ladies and forget to ask if it's OK. And soon realise I've made a gaff. I'm a stranger to the lady, without context, without connection. With no explanation of where the photo might land.

Her reaction, though measured and calm, is like a sharp shake. And leaves me unnerved. And I realise this listening is a discipline. An art. Not something to take lightly. This way of being. This tuning in. Today, remembering to keep present in. 

Walking back, it's still raining and we pull our coats closer, our hoods down. And then, there's the church, with the lights on in the hall. A sanctuary in waiting. For Lindsay, for the dance class. And for others in days to come. 

But for me, another time. I need to get going. The traffic gets bad beyound 4pm. So with a soggy hug and wishes of all the festive best, we say our farewells. And head into the warmth. Of St Hilda's. And a Diahatsu Terios.  

Fiona P