By Andrea Lingle

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:7

"When the dark clouds come keep going." (Mackesy)

Wind through leaves. Walking along a known wild way. Crisp grapes. Butterflies sipping minerals from damp, riverside mud pats. A carefully set table. A raked garden. Enough energy to finish a task. Tea from a mug whose story you know. A thoroughly surprising plot twist. The tide. Waking early to walk under a setting moon. Homemade bread. 

I use two mugs for my morning tea. One I bought on the island of Iona while on my first pilgrimage. It is glazed in the colors of the island: twilight and purple. It’s walls are thin and there is a hairline crack that doesn’t leak yet. It is a waisted mug, like a dainty dancer. The other is the one I am using today. It is stout, and the handle is wide. The body is a dark forest green, and it wears a caplet of seafoam. My friend, Suzie, made it for me. Two mugs are nice to have since sometimes one needs to be washed. Two storied mugs are a luxury of riches. 

I had a mug before these two. My husband bought it for me. It was tall and narrow with just the right notch for your thumb. When it began leaking too badly to be used any longer, I set it on a shelf with a bundle of dried lavender in it. It has the most beguiling cranberry glaze.

Potters made each of those mugs. I met them all. I know only one. Each one took clay and centrifugal force and spun a vessel for my morning tea. Each one chose a color for no purpose other than loveliness and dipped or painted or dripped it on. Then, holding their breath, put it to the fire. My mugs might not have survived. There might have been one or two in the same batch that burst in the heat. But, mine, having weathered the firing, came to my hand. An ordinary beauty. A cup with a story that sits with me through morning after morning. A made thing. A companion. 

Good guacamole with salty chips. Blowing the seeds from a perfect dandelion. A backrub. The smell of good soil. Finger painting. Conversation on the porch on a rainy afternoon. Blowing bubbles. A child seeing a frog jump. Misty mornings. Clean sheets dried in the sun. A freshly laid egg.