Glimmers

 

This weekend I had guests. Two lovely women who were once upon a time college roommates. They wanted a quiet little space so they could spend hours telling stories and a quiet little town to visit between their stories.

This, my friends, is the best part. When they were leaving, they shared their favorite memories of the weekend and here they are: billowing curtains in the bedroom (okay, I really love that one too!), little soaps on their towels, a quiet, sleepy little porch for their late night stories, the sweet smell of grass, the scent of French lilacs wafting through the open windows, a sweet purple house with good coffee, a thank you note featuring Miss Columbia and friendly folks when they went out and about. They loved it here.

After they left, and I hung out their sheets, I thought about things they didn’t even mention that I often worry about! Yes, I live in the house, the shower is downstairs, the floors creak. Those are the things guests must live with. The charm of our area, and the sweetness of small things were all that mattered. As I puttered through the rest of the weekend, I thought about this.

I am wondering if we really take enough time to love the small things. Some folks call these glimmers. The experts in mental health call glimmers the opposite of triggers. We all have those. Glimmers come and go so quickly, we often do not spend enough time embracing them. I try to pay attention to the above things my guests mentioned. I often say to Kathy, “Oh, how I love sleeping with my balcony door open and the curtains billowing.” Spring brings so many glimmers, and they are fast tracked and we can miss them if we are not watching or thinking about them. They are different from big events in our lives…weddings, graduations, birth of babies.

Stop for a moment. Go outside or even just look out the window. What do you see? The bursting forth of the first peonies. The color of the trees. The sound of children. Write down these small glimmers. Keep a notebook…maybe add it to your gardening book or your star gazing book or start a new one full of joys and glimmers.

My dad was into glimmers, although he didn’t use that word. (I don’t think it was invented then!) Nonetheless, he understood. Once, at the old farmhouse, the two of us sat out on the porch swing. It was my very favorite thing to do. The farmhouse overlooked Doc Headley’s fields with acres and acres of beauty. This was before the build up of businesses…just orchards and land. As we sat outside, he said to me, “Take it all in. Listen. Look. Pay attention to your senses.” We sat in silence, but it wasn’t silent. Crickets and bird song filled the air. The scent of the new mown hay wafted onto the porch. The colors of the land and the sky were breathtaking. The taste of the strong coffee I brought out as the screen door shut with a bang.

My uncle Dean understood. One year I flew to upstate New York to celebrate Labor Day with him. On that Monday morning, we got up early to do some photography of the lake features. Uncle Dean filled the thermos with coffee; we grabbed our cameras and off we went out to the boat and into the dawn’s light. It was cold and it was foggy. As we meandered around the lake, the fog didn’t lift. I shared my frustration with my uncle. “I can’t take any photos,” I said, “it is too foggy.” I was so disappointed. He told me to wait and be patient. He was right. Just as we went around the bend, we caught sight of a silhouette of a canoe with two passengers. All we could see were their shadows, but my uncle took the photo. When we were back at the house, he printed it and gave it to the neighbor whom he recognized. They framed it. Glimmers. Don’t miss them. Sometimes we need to forget the big picture and see the one blooming tulip in the garden.

In the year 1513, Fra Giovanni Giocondo, a Franciscan Monk, once wrote, “The gloom of the world is but a shadow; behind it, yet within our reach is joy. Take Joy!” As a new week unfolds, take the time to see the glimmers within your own joy.