Delights: July 3 to July 9

July 2: While we were driving to Bethany Beach, one of my nieces asked an ordinary question. Stymied, I stammered and stuttered and apologized for my buffering brain. Susan offered apt comfort: “You have too many windows open.”

July 2: I sat, sour as a lemon, at the registration desk for the church camp I would be leading in three hours. I was tired, dispirited, pouty. I had already resolved not to volunteer to lead next year’s camp.

As I waited for the 25 attendees to arrive, I paged listlessly through my notebook and spied notes I had made last year from Brené Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfection. Among her Guideposts to Wholehearted Living — characterized by courage, compassion and connection — one insight shimmered before me: resentment forecloses compassion.

I ignored the shimmer and continued my ho-hum skimming. But my mind kept returning to the shimmer. I certainly wasn’t feeling compassionate. Was I resentful?

Actually, yes. Very much so. I counted on two hands all my perfectly valid resentments, and imagined them, brick by brick, on the table before me: my figurative barricade. 

Suddenly, by naming them, even validating them, my resentments lost their power. I could choose, and I chose compassion. I chose vulnerability. I chose joy. (I’d been so cantankerous when I arrived that I failed to see the big J-O-Y next to my room.) 

And I chose a fun new outfit for the evening’s program. Lemonade, anyone?

July 3: Of course, as my mother would say, I wasted a good worry: my programming basically took care of itself.

On Thursday night, a local historian recounted (and illustrated) the history of Bethany Beach and its founding by the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). On Friday morning, Bethany Beach’s history museum welcomed about fifteen members of our group while I led a discussion on the Fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) for the folks staying behind. And Friday night, talented musicians led a sing-along.

Sure, I might have eaten too many meals with the Important Museum Person’s family. And maybe I used my firm teacher’s voice a bit too often. 

As for the Fruit of the Spirit, I did at last manifest Joy. But — frozen custard, donuts and those fan-girl moments, I’m looking at you — maybe not much Self-Control!

Bonus: For those wondering, the Fruit of the Spirit — as presented in the letters of Saint Paul in the Christian New Testament — are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, patience and self-control.

July 4: It’s Independence Day and most of my responsibilities are behind me. I’m sitting on a rocker one block from the ocean, waiting contentedly for someone to feed me breakfast. And lunch, and dinner, and breakfast again.

The ocean beckons, the sun laughs, our beach umbrella will embrace our chairs and books in its capacious shade. 

I love being surprised by delight. Sometimes, though, the best delight is knowing that more is coming. 

July 4: At nightfall, Susan and I sat on the sand at Bethany Beach. The ocean was 10 yards to the east. To the north, fireworks illuminated the sky of another beach community. To the south — 10 miles and what feels like 75 traffic lights away — Ocean City exploded its Grand Finale. And to the west, Mother Nature sent sheets of lightning. When would our fireworks begin?

On the other hand, why the hurry? Someone else is watching the kids and we have melted into the crowd . . .

Bonus: Jeremiah watched the July 4^th fireworks from Brooklyn while facing the skyline of lower Manhattan. He said he was just as awed by the reflections on the buildings as he was by the incandescence in the sky.

July 6: My lounge seat at our local cinema reclined to maximum comfort and the heated leather eased all my driving twinges. The lights went down, and my eyelids followed. For our last morning of vacation back home in Falls Church, Susan, the girls and I went to see Toy Story 5. Maybe I could snooze during the opening credits.

No chance. Toy Story 5 is as good as — better? — than my two all-time Toy Story favorites (#1 and #2). My eyes were wide open (and sometimes teary) from the moment a shipping container of Buzz Lightyears washes up on a deserted island, through the reprise of my favorite toys and the many (many) jokes slipped in for adults, to the sweet moments and memories created by the plot. I laughed constantly, cheered the take-charge leadership of Sheriff Jessie and, as a “I don’t leave until the screen goes dark” credit-watcher, enjoyed the epilogue deep into the credits that tied up the last loose end.

The movie is about many things, including true friendship. Time to round up my own posse to see it again!

July 7: The other day, I caught the very beginning of the World Cup game between Mexico and England. I was overwhelmed (and, actually, moved) by the robust singing of their national anthem by the Mexican players. That’s the kind of singing I reserve for Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run” when I’m driving with the windows down.

And just now, as I type this, I’m listening to the entire stadium in Vancouver boom out Colombia’s national anthem.

The World Cup has yielded many surprises for me. (That England-Mexico game was crazy!) But this reverence, this pride, this unity in song reminds me that I can celebrate with strangers even when, literally and metaphorically, I don’t know the words.

July 8: If sometimes you need a reminder that it’s ok to celebrate delight, joy and good things in a world where so much of the opposite torments us, you might appreciate Nes Felicio’s short fable about the monk asking permission to be happy. Looking at beautiful things helps too.

July 9: As you may have noticed, my enthusiasms are both deep and varied. But there was a time in my life when my enthusiasms were largely confined (other than family and baseball) to one thing: administrative law. I lived, read, wrote, argued and talked administrative law. Sometimes I even got paid for it.

Then I retired and put it all behind me — until a few nights ago. 

A law professor friend (whom I met on the administrative law nerd circuit) asked me if I would chat with a student about an administrative law paper she’s writing. Certainly.

Except I didn’t actually “talk.” I kind of, uh, flooded. I spun scenarios. I ticked off factors. I offered ideas and contradictions. I explained. I speculated. Basically, I overwhelmed her.

I also made a new friend. I urged the student to call me again. I hope she does. Even if she doesn’t (“um, Professor, isn’t there someone else I can talk to??”), I had a great time exercising brain muscles long dormant.

I will emphatically not hang out a lawyer’s shingle offering my services. But if in the corner of a bar you overhear a particularly animated woman trying to explain the difference between a guidance document and a regulation, just buy me a beer and come on over.

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If you’d like to browse my past delights, please consult the “word cloud” featured at the very bottom of this post. Find a theme or two that interests you and sift through the sands. Or learn a bit more about my Blog by visiting my Welcome page. You’ll also see links to four essays that were published in print magazines. I’m glad you’re here!