As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’m trying to focus on a single word this year. In other words, rather than make resolutions, I decided to pick one word. I want to see how one word will influence my choices. How it will affect my days. How it will affect my relationships.
Of course, me being me, I have difficulty sometimes narrowing down my choices. And this has been no exception. First, it was #start. I wanted to start something big this year. But then it became moments. Because I wanted to be present in my life. I wanted to savor the moments of my days, savor the moments in my relationships.
But then it changed again.
So, right now, at least for now, my one word is delight. I want to delight in Jesus. I want to delight in my girls. I want to delight in my husband. I want to delight in my moments. To delight in my day.
Interestingly, it wasn’t until I picked that word – delight – that I began to realize how challenging it is to focus on this idea of delight. How challenging it can be to find delight in the moments of my day. How little delight I experience. Or, more accurately, how little delight I notice.
Because it’s always been there. It is there. Only now I see it. Because I am looking for it. Because I am focused on it.
And because I have a four-year-old who exemplifies and embodies and exudes the very essence of taking delight in the everyday and the ordinary.
Watching her in those moments of delight reminds me to do the same. It encourages me to embrace the small, seemingly insignificant things.
Her delight is contagious.
She relishes in her relationship to me, to her daddy, to her sister. She takes delight just in being near, in being with the ones she loves.
She gushes about groceries. Every item she pulls from the bag is her favorite thing.
She effuses joy in ordinary moments with phrases like, I cannot believe my eyes and Mama, look at this and I just love this toy, this corn chip, that there’s cream in my milk (or any number of things she stumbles across).
Because to a four-year-old, nothing is ordinary. Not really.
And as I wake up each morning, God reminds me of that. He reminds of my choice – to delight. To delight in the ordinary.
He reminds me with the colors of the dawn.
He reminds me as I watch the birds flit back and forth to the feeder.
He reminds me as I sit and watch the cozy fire in our fireplace.
He reminds me with the first sip of my morning coffee.
He reminds me with the burst of tannins when I enjoy a glass of wine.
He reminds me with the squeals of laughter and play from my girls through the day.
He reminds me with a song that causes my toes to tap and me to sing. Loudly. And with joy.
And when I lose sight of it. When I get too caught up in busyness. When I get to weighed down by worry or stress, he draws my eyes to himself. He draws my heart close to his.
He whispers my name and tells me to rest a while. To rest and watch and let the effusive delight of my sweet four-year-old wash over me. To infect me.
To delight me.
And it does. Every time.