Staff writer
I have a good friend who has spent a large portion of his life doing a lot of deep thinking about what it means to love well, what it is to do good loving.
He is intentional on a daily basis about seeking out small, simple things to notice that bring him joy in the “daily daily” of life. One day it was rain in the midst of sunshine. He wrote about it:
“Yesterday morning as I was walking into work from my car, it rained a bit. The sun was out, and it lit the sky brightly like it does when it’s hiding behind and illuminating the clouds. It was a light rain, but it wasn’t drizzle; it was big, full drops, falling slowly and sort of sparsely. Every moment of the few minutes I stood there enjoying it felt like it was the first moment of rain …”
My friend pointed out that, while the rain was lovely, what mattered in that moment was taking the time to actually stop and enjoy it.
His story reminded me of something I’d noticed a million times that week (while darting from house to car and back with baby, dogs, grocery bags, and other trappings of life) but hadn’t really stopped to enjoy.
I sent him back a picture of helicopter seeds, which were gathering by the millions on my front porch. Many of these whirling bits fall head first, lodging the heavy seed portion in between the wooden boards of my porch with the crisp blade pointing skyward so that when I walk to my car, the sound of my shoe tread dragging across the tops sounds like tiny, papery dry applause for each step.
I like that idea. Little applause for each step I take. Lord knows some days I feel every step is a feat more than deserving of applause.
At the very least taking the time to think about it made me feel a little more loved, a little stronger, which in turn made it easier to take a few more steps.