There is a small patch of crocuses that lives just outside Patchwork’s front door.
Last week, a hint of spring was in the air and several of us who were chatting in the main office thought of them for the first time in a year.
Were they back? Were they blooming?
We stuck our heads out the door, but there were only a few weak crocus leaves to be seen.
The place where they grow gets trampled all year long. People stand on it. People roll their bikes across it. People put bags of groceries down on it to readjust their load before heading home. The ground there is hard and dry. The plants get crushed.
Maybe this year they wouldn’t have the energy to bloom.
And then on Tuesday, Johnny came to find me to show me that they were, in fact, blooming.
Bravely, they stood at our door, a spot of sunny persistence greeting everyone as they came and went.
They are like so many of us here at Patchwork.
We persist here—all of us, our staff, volunteers, guests, participants, clients, visitors.
More and more I realize we’re all struggling with something. There are plenty of tough times and difficult life stories that we’re part of at Patchwork. We experience plenty of things that I don’t need to share in a story like this.
And yet we persist together. We welcome everyone with love and caring. We hold high a hope in human goodness, in community, in the ability to grow and change, in the advent of justice for all.
A few weeks ago, a man waiting in the main office for his food order said to me, “You shouldn’t come here just for coffee. You should come for interaction. It gets people thinking of other things than just themselves.”
This is what we strive for.