High on Happiness

Posts Tagged ‘Gifts’

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So the year’s first child leaves us, her last sun pouring down its golden rays in benediction on all our bright dreams.

Tomorrow the next one will come toddling in, brand new, its arms gift-laden.

Their visits are so brief and fleeting.  And each gives us its all–seconds, minutes, hours, days–to do with as we please, to make whatever choices we will, as they unfold their weather and usher along the seasons.

Oh, January!  How we heralded your birth!  You, the bringer of fresh hopes and renewed aspirations.

Forgive us for how quickly we forget them, and know that your life force will stir them again and again as your siblings come with new chances.

For all the beauty and dreams you brought us, our thanks.  Farewell, beautiful January.  Farewell.

August was feeling a bit down in the mouth.  Not that anything was wrong really.  It was just that everything seemed so, well, humdrum.

All the other months since spring had been blessed with such beautiful flowers, and here she was, nothing but grasses, a few remaining daisies, a patch of clover here and there.

She knew, of course, that it was silly to compare herself to the other months.  Everyone has their own gifts.

But right now, looking at herself, she thought her own gifts were nothing to write home about.

What was she for, anyway?  All she did was usher out lovely summer and open the door for autumn’s bright display.  The one was fading; the other hadn’t yet begun.  And she was right in the middle.

She sighed and dozed a little, falling into a dream.

In her dream, a great prince formed in the sky and looked down at her, his eyes sparkling with affection and delight.

“Hello, Sweet August,” he said, softly smiling.  “I heard you sighing and doubting your worth.”

“I’m sorry,” August said to the prince.  “I know I should accept myself just as I am and not wish that I were more.”

“Oh, dear August,” said the prince, “you have no idea how precious you are, how necessary and lovely and loved!  You do far more for those around you than you will ever know.”

“But I feel so ordinary,” August confessed, “and so plain.”

“That’s just because you haven’t yet seen your finest gifts unfolding,” the prince said.  “Let me tell you a secret:  Sometimes when things seem their dullest, it’s a signal that something amazing is about to transpire.  Wait patiently, my dear.  The best is yet to come.”

And with that, the prince dissolved back into the afternoon sky.

August woke from her nap with the prince’s words echoing in her thoughts.  She wrapped herself in patience and went about her tasks—shepherding the bees to the clover, helping the Queen Anne’s lace unfurl, ripening the corn.  The work pleased her and she  felt a new glow of contentment as she busied herself with the details and watched the damsel flies flit through the budding goldenrod.

As she fell asleep that evening, the prince’s words drifted across her mind.   “The best is yet to come.”

She wondered what he meant by that.  Little did she know that in a few hours, she would find out.

She woke feeling peaceful and rested.  Stretching herself over the morning, she slowly opened her eyes. Why, her whole world had been transformed! Before her stretched a beautiful golden bouquet, set off by purple wildflowers and cattails, tall and brown.

“Do you see now, my dear, what your work has wrought?” a voice whispered from the morning’s pastel sky.

Laughing with delight, August rolled into the day.  “I see!  I see!  I see!” she sang.  And the goldenrod turned up its color, and the corn grew sweeter in the fields.

It’s become a sort of ritual for me to listen to the morning songs of the birds as I walk from the parking lot into my office.  It’s a familiar little gift of joy, given to color my day.

Once you begin to look for them, you discover little gifts of joy tucked everywhere, you know.  They come as little surprises—a glint of sunlight, a sudden swath of purple dancing across the landscape, an unexpected call or note from a friend, a fragrance wafting down the street, the wag of a dog’s tail.

They come as rewards for your willingness to take delight in life’s small and simple pleasures.  They come wrapped in whatever shape will zing little darts of joy your way.  They’re like little jewels, strewn across your path just to sparkle your day, to zap you into the moment and remind you that you’re alive, here, now, and intending to enjoy life’s pleasures.

Set your mind to looking for them, for noticing them when they appear.  Start a collection.  Make little lists, just for the fun of it.  See how many you can find.  See how many reappear, over and over, like a beloved friend come to soothe you and bring light to you day.

As she walked past the open guest room door, the sound of his voice stopped her.  Despite its low volume, it was filled with such sincerity and enthusiasm that she wondered who had called him at this hour.

When she peeked in, she saw that he was speaking to no one at all.  He was simply standing there, his back to her, peering out the window.  “Good Morning, Grass!” he was saying.  “Good Morning, Dew.  Good Morning Trees and Birds.  Good Morning, Sky.”  Spontaneously, she laughed and he turned around, and laughed with her.

“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, still laughing.

“Good Morning, Caroline!  I’m greeting the day.”

“Do you always start your mornings like this?” she asked her guest.

“Why, yes,” he said, his eyes sparkling.  “I’m so glad for the gift of it, that it only seems right to take a few minutes to greet it.”

It’s All Good

Half an hour later, when they were sharing coffee at the kitchen table, Caroline asked Dave how long he had been starting his mornings with this ritual greeting of his and how it came to be.  “Actually,” he said, “I’ve been doing it since I was young man.  Over the years, it’s taken on such meaning for me that I don’t think I could possibly start the day without it.”

Dave had been through some harrowing times in his life.  He’d been in combat; he nearly died in an auto accident once.  Two of his businesses had failed before he finally met with success.  But even when he woke bleary eyed in the desert, covered with sweat and sand, he told Caroline, or in the hospital, to the smell of antiseptic and the low buzz of fluorescent lights, tethered to IVs, he took time to greet the morning.

It gave him a way, he said, to appreciate that he had one more day to be alive on this planet and to keep his mind open for the gifts the day would bring.

Caroline studied his face over the rim of her coffee cup as she took a sip.  “How could you feel that way when you were in a war?  Or wracked with pain in a hospital bed?” she asked quietly.

“It’s not the circumstances of your life that count,” he said.  “It’s how you look at them.  When I was a young man I read in a book somewhere, maybe one of Wayne Dyer’s, this remarkable statement: ‘Nothing bad ever happens to me.’  Everything is for your good, you see, always.  Even the fear and discouragement and pain.  I just adopted that as my working belief, and it’s seen me through some really difficult times.”

For a moment, Dave stared out the kitchen window at the sunny garden outside as if he were lost in memories.  Caroline heard a robin singing in the willow at the garden’s edge.  “Of course,” Dave said, “his face breaking into a smile, “it’s a lot easier to say ‘Good Morning’ to the world on a day as gorgeous as this one!  You really have a lovely place here, Caroline.”

Caroline smiled back and thanked him.  “But you know,” he said warmly, “every day truly is a gift.  It truly is.”

Happiness sings its purest song when it flows between two hearts.  In essence, after all, happiness is the song of love.

And of all the beautiful forms it takes—romantic love, parental love, spiritual love—one of its most joyous forms is the happiness of friendship.

As friendship, it dances between the hearts of lovers and those of parent and child.  It plays its song between siblings, relatives, neighbors and coworkers, between humans and their furred and feathered friends.

The notes of friendship are notes of kindness and consideration, of appreciation, respect, delight, patience and joy.  It rests in trust and positive regard.  It overlooks flaws or finds them endearing.  It forgives errors as easily as it breathes.   It’s given with such ease.  And grounded in shared time and communication, it takes on qualities of endurance and strength that can span a lifetime and transcend long silences and spaces.

Friendship bonds us and teaches us true empathy and affection.  It warms and supports us.  It comforts and encourages.  It holds up a mirror that lets us see our own lovableness and assures us that we are not alone.

Friendship is a touch of heaven on earth, one of life’s most precious gifts.  As rough as the road may, from time to time, be, at least we have fine companions with which to share it.  Isn’t that beautiful and grand!