On Sunday, July 2, during our Sensing Delight worship service, congregants were invited to write down things that bring them delight on pieces of scrap paper. The scrap papers were collected and read aloud later during the service by UUCC worship leaders Colette Gelwicks and Kim Metz. In case you missed it, or would enjoy revisiting — here it is, below!
If you prefer, the poem is also available to listen to here (the poem starts at 45:55).
UUCC’s Box of Delight Poem
Because the road
Turns long and lonely sometimes,
I built this box of delight.
I picked up the lid
And into it I put . . .
- The smell of fresh basil.
- Residual warmth of memories of get-togethers with family and family friends from years past.
- A perfectly cooked steak. A friend’s love. A cool breeze felt while lying on clean sheets.
- Chocolate cake with coffee, pho, pad thai, kimchi stew and salmon sushi.
- Long tender hugs from spouse after a panic attack. Swimming through a big pool. Seeing a new flower pop up after the long winter. Sunsets over clouds.
- The quiet peace of looking up at the stars.
- The twinkling lights of lightning bugs along the tree line in the summer. Family, books, video games, friends, reading.
- The smooth feeling of silk on skin.
- When something carefully planned goes delightfully wrong.
- First sip of coffee in the morning. Rainbow after a storm. Taste of raspberries picked along a bike trail on a warm sunny day. Smell of pine trees brings back memories of driving narrow roads in New Hampshire where I had visits with grandparents and other relatives.
- The light of joy that brightens the faces of my students when they see their friends and teachers.
- Connection with people.
- A newborn baby! Birthday cake. My husband’s laugh. Jumping in a lake or watching the sunset on the lake.
- Winding up, then letting go.
- Watching my kitties Max and Harry frolic with their toys. Unexpected laughter. A well struck golf shot!
- Seeing a dog taking a walk with their people. Seeing newborn babies being held and rocked to comfort. Hearing giggles from children. Seeing new fallen snow on the ground undisturbed.
- Writing a new song on the guitar in the morning.
- Standing in Nancy Lewman’s pool with my finger in the air as a dragonfly lands on it.
- Food, Family. Life. Myself.
- Hyacinth — smell and color. My kids & chocolate cake! New York pizza. The first whiff of ocean air after too long away.
- Holding my mother’s hand. Strawberry shortcake made by my mother. Going to the library with my dad every week.
- The simple act of stitching; the feel of cotton, silk, linen; the hum of the sewing machine; the sight of gorgeous colors coming together.
- The sight of a shaft of light on a path in the woods. The feel of your baby’s finger wrapped around your own.
- Happiness — the bite of the first-of-the-summer homegrown tomato. Forest bathing. Ever changing colors, smells.
- The warm messy kisses my puppy smothers me in to show her unexpected unconditional love.
- Laughing so hard that you cry. The sound of heavy rain during a storm on the roof. Dark chocolate covered strawberries. My cat purring in my lap upside down.
- Love and kindness.
- Having my thoughts and feelings validated after I’ve written them down when in my mind they were all scrambled.
- A vivid streak of blue outside my kitchen window — a bluebird on his way to feed his babies.
- Fresh air and nature’s beauty as I exit my home taking the dog out for a walk at day break.
- Seeing others recognize the value of animals — their smiles when they see how gentle geese are when they trust you enough to eat from your hands.
- Delighted to be above ground and still independent.
- When the boys pounce on me and my wife to wake us up in the morning — many mornings.
- My orange kitty, relaxed utterly into liquefaction, spread warmly across my lap.