Spring arrives on the heels of the baby goats. The grass is greening, trees are budding life at their tips. Tiny but evident. That is spring. Small bits and pieces of colour, drops of paint on a fresh canvas.

Spring is small this year.

It is a crisp morning and we, my husband and I, are doing the day together. We leave the boys with a list and some stew in the pot. As we drive out of the yard, I smile at the goats, stretching into their brand newness, racing around the legs of their mamas. And small seems good.

We stop in town, streets quiet in the morning, and as I sit in the truck waiting for Lyndon, I watch Melodee from the second-hand store with the name I can never remember (something about cats and curiosity), I watch Melodee walk from her store to the post office, her new puppy on its leash and her black and white cat sauntering along a half a block behind. The three of them walk to the post office and back, and passing folk stop and greet and smile at the trio. And the flags at the end of the street wave their maple leaves in the breeze.

I see coveralled men stop their trucks in front of the convenience store and I watch them come out of the store with cups of coffee in gloved hands and bags of chips or chocolate bars for later in the day. And the sun through the window is warm on my face and I smile at my husband when he returns and small seems good.

We drive to our friends’ farm for the auction that has been planned and worked toward for so many months, and we park in their field with the other vehicles and I think of them, with their belongings in the yard and their family with them and I say a prayer of thanks for the nice day and ask for a blessing on their lives. I think of how much they will be missed here, and of how welcomed they will be in their new community with their daughters and their grandchildren and I know that God is good.

At the auction, farmers wander about the machinery or stand in groups, caps on heads, talking about the lack of moisture and when do you think you will be in the field? Lyndon has his eye on some metal roofing that he’d like for the barn, and he goes to check it out. I see him visiting with Glen and then I see him with Miles and pretty soon I’ve lost track of him.

I see the farmer’s wife and I hug her and repeat what everyone is saying, that I am happy it is such a nice day for their sale. I hug her daughter and we comment on the weather. We are happy the sun is shining and it’s not too windy. We comment on the number of people and on the strange feelings the auction brings out in everyone.

I stand with my friend Lorna for a few minutes and we talk about needing to get together soon, to catch up. I stand with sweet Ruby who gives me a hug and asks God to bless me when I leave. I stand for a while with Edith and we talk about her farm and the changes they are making in their operation and we laugh as we discuss ways to help her son find a good wife.

I see Lyndon across the way with Rick and I make my way over to them. We need to go soon, he says, because he has a meeting in the city in a few hours. They won’t get to the roofing before we need to leave so I tell Rick I’ll buy him a hamburger if he’ll bid for us. He laughs and Lyndon and he get in line for lunch and Lyndon tells me later that Rick jumped in and payed for the burgers before Lyndon could get his money out of his pocket. And as we walk away from the sale it makes me smile to know these people and to be part of this community.  And small seems good.

We drive the back way, highway 363, and we notice the number of muskrat huts on the dugouts and Lyndon says maybe next spring I’ll get out and trap muskrats again. And it’s just nice to be out and about on such a beautiful day.

Downtown Regina is busy with construction and Lyndon finally finds a parking spot on Hamilton Street. He walks me to the Cornwall Centre and leaves for his meeting. I sit for a while in the food court, enjoying my chicken and rice and feeling anonymous in the crowd of shoppers, and then Jason surprises me with his sweet smile and sits down at my table. We exchange what are you doing here‘s and I’m happy to see his good face and we visit for a few minutes. I send my love with him, for his beautiful wife. The little encounter leaves me with a smile in my heart, and I’m thankful again for the small treasures.

I wander in and out of shoe stores, hoping to buy some sandals to replace the ones I lost at the beach last year. I settle on a style, and then I see the rainbow of colours I can choose from. I pick up a white pair, and then a black pair, and I think about being practical. But then I choose the Easter-egg blue, because the day has taught me that the small bits and pieces, the little things, they are what colour my life with beauty.

And life, small and colourful, is good.

Here’s another way to put it: You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colours in the world.

Jesus – the sermon on the mount

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Oops, yesterday was Tuesday, and it was my turn to write a My Dad and Me post. We were away all day, so this is my late contribution. Maybe next week, Dad will write about what colours his life? We’ll see on Tuesday, when it will be his turn. I always look forward to reading his words, whatever he decides to write about.

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