The discipline of delight

For Lent this year, my little household of two decided to practice the discipline of delight. Every day we planned to register something that gave us delight and wonder, something for which we were grateful. And, as the Coronavirus crisis deepened, this felt like an extra blessing in our days.

The older I get, the more I realise that the things that delight me most deeply are the everyday things, not the big, extravagant, rare events. Here are a few of the things that delighted me in Lent:

The fact that, as autumn deepens, I am walking to work as sunrise lights up the sky – a magical time, with pink suffusing the trunks of gum trees, the birds making a raucous riot, the greys of darkness dispersing, a coolness in the air after the stuffy nights of high summer.

Birds, cavorting in our bird bath, oblivious to my quiet laughter.

A new sound system which makes me feel that I am hearing music for the first time, the bass notes thrumming deep in my belly.

The reality that there is boiling water in my kettle and hot water in my shower.

The bliss of getting horizontal and pulling up the doona on the first chilly nights of the year.

The lemon scent of clean sheets and the cool smoothness as I stretch my toes down to the bottom of the bed.

Sorting old photos and recalling the visceral delight of babies and small children.

Reading old letters and marvelling at the deep friendships that have sustained me over decades.

Holding my husband.

Everything about the beach.

The splendour and relief of a long and steady downpour.

The fact that my cousins who live the other side of the world visited and slotted into our lives like the family they are.

That first, wonderful cup of tea each morning.

Food – any food – when I am seriously hungry. The taste of a ripe white nectarine, its juice running down my chin.

The cacophony of rainbow parakeets in the trees near the zoo of a morning.

The miracle of an entire library of books, all available to me for nothing. The knowledge that I will never run out of fabulous things to read.

Every day of my life - my health.

And, underpinning all the delights and the things for which I am grateful are these:

As Good Friday approaches, the knowledge that God became a human being and consequently knows our suffering, our struggles and our joy. 

As Easter Saturday approaches, the reassurance that in the darkest hour before the dawn, in the bewilderment and fear of Easter Saturday, God is there with us.

As Easter approaches, the hope that love is stronger than death, that love will always have the last word that, aligned with the loving creator God, there will always be hope and new beginnings.  

This was published in the April edition of The Melbourne Anglican

 

Comments

[Rod]

Thank you once again Clare. You prompted me to remember that even though we live in dark days, "For all this nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness, deep down things ..." your list among them. You savour them "because the Holy Ghost over the bent world broods with warm breast and Ah! bright wings." G M Hopkins of course.