In a Stranger’s Guise

Tonight, I spent the evening at my grandparents’ house.

As we ate dinner, the setting sun shone through the tall dining room windows. A soft sepia hue brightened their smiling faces.

The scene was almost romantic – simple and serene.

After dinner, my Nan told my sister and me that she had something to share with us. A conversation at the table had triggered her memory, and she went into her bedroom to retrieve an old diary.

“Sometimes,” she said, “things in life touch you. And it’s important to write them down.”

“These things matter.”

She opened an hand-bound leather journal and flipped through the pages.

The Celtic Blessing of Hospitality, The English Reformed Church, Amsterdam

I saw a stranger yestreen,

I put food in the eating place,

drink in the drinking place,

music in the listening place,

and in the sacred name of the Triune,

He blessed myself and my house,

my cattle and my dear ones,

and the lark said in her song

often, often, often

goes the CHRIST

in a stranger’s guise.



Where did I see Him today?

I think I know.

Where did you?

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