This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. [Psalm 118:24 (ESV)]
What would you do if you were six and your father said that your mom is in the hospital because she finds it hard to be happy and “did something stupid”? That question is answered in Duncan Macmillan and Jonny Donahoe’s one-act play, Every Brilliant Thing. In their play, that boy, now a grown man, tells the audience that he made of list of everything that was “brilliant” about the world—everything worth living for—and left it on his mother’s pillow. Reflecting a six-year old’s priorities, the list included ice cream, Kung-Fu movies, laughing so hard you shoot milk out your nose, burning things, construction cranes, and “me.” Although she returns the list with its spelling corrected, the boy’s mother never comments on it. Nevertheless, he keeps adding to his list. Although his mother eventually takes her life, the narrator tells how his list took on a life of its own and eventually saved him from his own depression and suicidal thoughts.
Throughout the play, the audience learns of additions to the list—everything from peanut butter, water fights, and sunlight to peeing in the sea with nobody knowing, someone lending you a book, cycling downhill, and completing a task. Sort of a theatrical and secular version of Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts, Every Brilliant Thing is a poignant reminder of the importance of noticing and naming the little “brilliant” things in our lives—to step out of ourselves to take in the small blessings with which God blesses us every day—to pause and feel God’s love in a stranger’s smile, a nurses’ gentle touch, the sound of children’s laughter, the smell of lemon zest, the taste of a fresh-baked warm chocolate chip cookie, a mockingbird’s serenade, a compliment, or the smell of a campfire! No one’s list is the same nor should they be.
Nearly three years ago, Voskamp’s book inspired me to start my own list of “gifts” (what Macmillan and Donahoe called “brilliant” things). But, like the play’s narrator, I put it aside after a while. Although there were moments I thought, “That’s one for the list,” I rarely added them and they were forgotten. It wasn’t until my most recent bout with depression and pain that I resumed adding to it. Of course, I couldn’t add to the list without making a point of opening my eyes to God’s presence in the ordinary stuff of life. Some were big things like taking Communion or learning that my girls are visiting in a few weeks. Most things, however, are pretty mundane—the aroma of night-blooming jasmine, the two standard poodles that sit regally beside their person as he chauffeurs them around the community in his golfcart, Savannah Guthrie’s book Mostly What God Does, whipped cream on a cup of hot cocoa, and monarch butterflies. There’s nothing extraordinary about these “brilliant” things; nevertheless, they bring a smile to my face and remind me of God’s presence in all things.
Although our cups overflow with God’s blessings, it’s been said that joy comes in sips rather than gulps. May we always remember that it wasn’t in the storm that Elijah heard God—it was in His whisper. Indeed, God whispers to us in the seemingly insignificant but “brilliant” things of life. Let us take note of each and every one!
There is not one little blade of grass, there is no color in this world that is not intended to make men rejoice. [John Calvin]
It was a web day at the park and I don’t mean the world-wide kind. It was one of those days when the morning dew, mist, and light cooperated in such a way that we saw beautiful intricate spider webs hanging everywhere. Looking as if they were made of strands of silver rather than proteinaceous silk extruded from a spider’s spinnerets, it seemed like the spiders had decorated all the trees in celebration of Christmas.
Unfortunately, much of our Advent season is not spent joyfully looking forward to celebrating the birth of the Christ child. In hope of finding the perfect gift for everyone on our list, we pore over catalogues and search for sales and coupons. Either we fight for parking spots at the mall and spend hours standing in line or spend those hours sitting at the computer while shopping on line! We then fret and fuss over wrapping those gifts, mailing packages and Christmas cards, hosting and attending parties, baking cookies, making travel arrangements, decorating the house, preparing holiday dinners, and paying the ever-mounting bills. When we say, “Merry Christmas!” we might find ourselves mumbling a Scrooge-like “Bah! Humbug” under our breath! Instead of looking forward to Christmas with anticipation, there are times we can’t wait until it’s all over and done.
When I was a girl (back in the days of pen, paper, and postage stamps), my mother insisted that I write a “thank you” note for any gifts I received. Whether my birthday or Christmas, I was not allowed to enjoy any gifts until the necessary notes had been written. Moreover, each note had to be personal. I couldn’t just write a quick generic, “Thank you for the nice present.” I had to say something specific about the gift and, if it was money, I had to say how I planned on using it. Even if the present was something I really didn’t like or want (and we’ve all had those kinds of gifts), I had to express gratitude. My mother reminded me that, while I might not value the gift, someone else’s time, thought, love, and money had gone into getting it for me. Therefore, I should take the time to properly acknowledge and show my appreciation for the giver’s generosity. Her “thank you” note rule also applied whenever someone did something special for me. If a family took me to an event or I’d spent the night at a friend’s house, a note of thanks had to be written.
A certain amount of discontent seems to be built into us, which isn’t all bad since discontent can be the incentive to make improvements. Dissatisfaction with the harpsichord’s inability to vary the intensity of its sound led Bartolomeo Cristofori to invent the piano around 1708. Benjamin Franklin’s annoyance at having to switch between two pairs of glasses led to his invention of bifocals and it probably was his discontent with a cold house that led to his invention of the metal-lined Franklin stove. The invention of the “ballbarrow,” with its rust-proof plastic bin and ball-shaped wheel that won’t sink into soft soil, is the result of James Dyson’s discontent with the traditional wheelbarrow. As Thomas Edison said, “Discontent is the first necessity of progress.”
In Letters to Malcom, C. S. Lewis wrote, “We, or at least I, shall not be able to adore God on the highest occasions if we have learned no habit of doing so on the lowest. … Any patch of sunlight in a wood will show you something about the sun which you could never get from reading books on astronomy. These pure and spontaneous pleasures are ‘patches of Godlight’ in the woods of our experience.”
Devotions of the Heart 