On Fostering Delight

 

I'm sitting at my desk today with the view above, looking out into our office where I have set things up to bring me delight as I write, study, read.  There is a dog curled up on the green couch, another stepping over my feet under the desk as I write.  There are about a hundred things I should be doing, but I am writing instead. 

Tomorrow I take my hospice/palliative care certification exam which I have been preparing for over many months.  I have two big purple study books that I have carried with me to libraries, coffee shops, bookstores, and on vacations to prepare for this test.  I felt incredibly prepared about a month ago, and then several things popped up that threw my study plans for the remainder of the month off a little bit.  I never quite found my footing again to get back on pace, but I am going into tomorrow trusting the work I have been doing for months and hoping that I can recall the things that I have spent months learning.

Last night I hosted one of the book clubs I am in at our home. Late last week, I thought, "maybe we have too much going on right now; maybe I should ask someone else to host." I have learned in my thirties to ask for help when I need it, and I was weighing whether this was one of those times.  But as the weekend passed and we settled back in at home after traveling to see family, I felt inspired and excited to host.  One of the things that brings me such delight is gathering people.  I love feeding people, I love giving people a cozy place to sit and enjoy a meal, I love having deep conversation-- whether bookish or about what is going on in someone's life.  I also have learned that flexing my creative muscles really helps me to enjoy myself and to feel a sense of wonder and delight that I don't feel when I am pouring over textbooks and taking practice exams.

There's a balance, I suppose.  Life can't be all delight or we would never get any of the boring tasks like taxes accomplished (though, on that note, have you found a way to delight in these? The closest I've gotten is hiring an accountant to do them instead of pulling my hair out doing them myself).  Through the lens of waiting and loss over the past year and a half, I have struggled to find the elements of whimsy and delight that once came so easily to me in my every day life.  It feels like someone has pulled down a screen that blurs the things that I once enjoyed, like I am looking at the thing that I once loved and found delight in, but that there is a haze around it so that I can't see and enjoy it clearly.  Don't worry, as I've been studying for my boards, I have evaluated myself for depression.  "Little interest or pleasure in doing things over the past two weeks?"  I don't think it's quite that, though I am not overlooking that yet and am remaining curious and attentive to whether that is the underlying issue. I would not discourage anyone from taking their mental health seriously.

What would it look like though to try to foster delight in these days that feel blurry and gray? Is it "faking it" til you make it? Is it inauthentic? I don't think so.  Actually, I think it's quite the opposite. I think it's like injecting sparks of hope and joy into the mundane to bring about more of that-- more hope, more joy, more delight.  

It actually reminds me of the passage in Scripture when a father is asking Jesus to heal his son from an unclean spirit.  The man says to Jesus, "But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us!"  Jesus responds and says, " 'If you can'! All things are possible for one who believes."  This next line is the verse that makes me weep, because I identify so much with this father. He responds to Jesus by saying, "I believe! Help my unbelief."  What a beautiful prayer-- this father who believes so much in what Jesus can do, yet is asking for Him to help the parts of him that still doubt.  I think it takes a lot of faith to pray that prayer.  And I don't think I ever fully understood it until we entered the valley that we have been walking through, where I have sometimes only been able to pray a simple prayer of "Please help." 

Isn't fostering joy and delight in our lives like this, though? Isn't it a proclamation that we believe that joy is here, that it can dwell here even in the midst of sorrow? I think maybe it's exactly that.  I think we all have different ways that we foster delight in our lives. Sometimes it's the hobbies that we pursue; I find that getting my hands dirty in our garden brings a sense of joy that I can't quite explain.  Hiking in the mountains is another hobby that I enjoy that fosters delight for me.  Curling up reading a book on our couch is maybe my favorite way to foster joy, with a candle lit and a cup of coffee or tea nearby, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around me while a dog sleeps by my feet. 

Recently, I have been "stringing lights up" in our home.  What I mean by that is that I've been going into the rooms that I spend the most time in and hanging things on walls, adding splashes of decor or color, putting down rugs.  I found a Rifle Paper Company rug on sale at Mayfair last week that I have been eying for a long time that I added to our home office to bring a sense of delight to this favorite room.  Accented by our floor to ceiling windows and curated book collection in this room, I now find that sitting to write in this space makes me feel so warm, like there is always sunshine in this room even on dreary days.  In You've Got Mail, Kathleen Kelly is in the midst of decorating for Christmas while the big bad Fox Books opens nearby and takes away business from her independent bookstore.  In what I believe is an effort to foster delight in the midst of some really hard things, she says, "It will all shake out; meanwhile, I'm hanging up more twinkle lights." I think this is just the spirit of stringing up lights in our own homes and souls in the midst of hard things. 

Some days pursuing delight means that I take a break from writing or studying to go to my local bookstore and wander.  I don't always buy something (though I try to buy something every few trips), but sometimes just wandering the shelves and seeing what sparks my interest will foster creativity and joy for me.  We have a used bookstore in Waynesville that I also love, and I have befriended one of the booksellers there which also brings a sense of delight when I visit and see her there.

I suppose what I'm rambling on about is that you can string up lights in your own life to foster delight when things feel dreary. I don't think it's being fake or inauthentic; I think it's similar to asking God to help us in our unbelief, like saying, "I believe that you have joy for me here- help me to find it, help me to welcome it in."