Pause for Delight
A few days ago I was heading for coffee with a friend. I'd left my car in the driveway (rather than parking it in the garage) overnight and when I got to the car, I immediately noticed the frosty windshield.
My first thought was "hmm. I wonder where the scraper is?"
My second thought was annoyance because said scraper was probably in the messy heap inside the garage – the heap that we ly haven't begun to organize since moving in over a month ago.
Before the third thought could bubble up (insert additional annoyance brewing about how cold it was), I got inside the car to turn on the defroster to help with the windshield. The sun was bright and I turned to notice that the driver's side window looked like it has been covered in snowflake-crystal stickers.
The formations of crystals were extraordinary, truly like nothing I'd ever seen. So I took a picture. And then another. And probably another. These shapes felt like a gift. A mini-moment that had been offered to me by nature, and one that I luckily had slowed down and quieted the voices in my head from overpowering.
Instead of getting back out to scrape away at the frost, I lingered there just to take it all in. A heart shape emerged from the patterns.
Delight doesn't have to be big or flashy.
Delight doesn't have to be complicated or take hours of our time. All we need to experience delight is to allow it. To open ourselves to receiving what is here for us. To get out of own way to let the micro-moments emerge.
My invitation to you this week is to consider: Where can you let yourself be delighted?
Today my delight came from noticing that the break lights of a school bus were start shaped. Yesterday my delight came from watching my dog sleep on a chair.
I know...life is busy. Life might even be hard. Can you allow delight to emerge anyway?