He is probably best known for his golden colors. Brilliant yellows. Vibrant flowers and fields. This is Van Gogh. But yesterday, it was his simple drawing at the Chicago Art Institute that got into my heart more than most. Entitled the Christmas Prayer, it is an elderly man, with folded hands, giving thanks for what most would call “very little.” He writes to his brother, “I have a feeling of belief in something on high even if I don’t know exactly who or what will be there. I like what Victor Hugo said: religions pass, but God remains.”

There are lights all around us here. The city is decorated for Christmas. And I love it so much. Trees twinkling. Lions wreathed. Reds and greens. Goldens shining. But it’s not the real reason I love Chicago. I love it for the black and whiteness of it all. The strong shoulders of buildings that welcomed me long ago, when I needed it most. When I needed the strength and certainty of it, to become.

And so it is with people. There are some in bright and shiny colors who will take you to the party. And then there are some who will simply take you home. And sit beside you. In gratitude.

Perhaps we would all do well to remember it at this time, and throughout the coming year. To sit beside so little, and know we have everything — it is here where all the colors will remain.