Theology of welcome

(inspired by Padraig O Tuama's opening session at Greenbelt 2012)

You are here: yes, I am.
I am here, learning to welcome life's sticking points,
her intractability, her stubborn fractiousness.
I am here, welcoming an aching knee,
inwardly salaaming the man in front of me,
the man who won't sit down, who blocks my view.
I am here, nodding a familiar greeting to my irritability,
making peace with a toilet that will not flush,
a too small car park and two meagre pillows.
And I am still here, learning to gaze beyond,
to greet other, less insistent strangers.
Greeting the gifted amateurs, strumming of feisty women, and grandad's ghost,
helloing the consummate pros, with voices
clear as glass, and rich as wine,
singing of shops and longshot bets,
tally-oh, tally-oh, the grinder.
And smiling shalom to the genius Scot,
in lime green jacket and salmon pink shirt,
who tells of the untamed, angry, funny Lord,
who told Nathaniel,
Stick around kid: you ain't seen nothing yet.
You are here: yes, I am.