A lone mourning dove took up residence on our front doorstep this morning. She’s calm as a guest who knows she’s expected, though she wasn’t. A round little thing, soft-bellied and unbothered, as if she’s just content to be content with the shelter she’s chosen.

What a tender, astonishing thing to happen on one of the last days of the year. Plenty of people would say she’s simply a bird choosing a quiet, sheltered spot out of the wind and snow. Nothing mystical about it.

But I’ve never been good at taking the world at its word. At pretending that it’s only what we can see.

Life is a bit like a kaleidoscope to me. Tilt it one way and everything looks chaotic and random; tilt it another and suddenly there’s a pattern or meaning. A little shimmer of grace. But the point is that we always get to choose the view. We get to choose what the pieces become.

We can nudge the kaleidoscope we look at the world through – until an entirely different picture settles. Until beauty or magic or grace come into focus.

It was such a tender little moment this morning seeing that dove on the porch. She’s still out there now, her small toes curled around the edge of the doorframe, her plump body steeled against the cold.

She’s like a little blessing of peace sitting right at the threshold of our home. A symbol of protection. Of comfort. Of being watched over.

And maybe that’s all any of us ever get – these little momentary visitations of grace. A mourning dove with a message. A stranger reading our words from halfway across the world. A kindness offered at the exact moment we needed it.

Small reminders that we’re part of a larger conversation happening beneath all the noise. Reminding us to stay open. To keep listening. Because there is more here than you know.

Wherever you are, whatever threshold you’re standing on today – the second last day of the year – I hope a little grace finds its way to your doorstep too.