Tag: finding joy

Sparkling Sugar and Clouds

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.”—Rumi

✨ When Hope Begins with a Thimbleful of Light

For days, we had lived beneath clouds, rain, and oppressive humidity. As I stepped out of the car early one weekend morning, everything felt heavy—what I imagined it being like to try to move through swampy waters, only without the alligators. Something caught my eye. I looked up. Directly within my line of sight was a thimbleful of light parting the clouds. It was not enough to brighten the sky or change the weather. It was just enough sunlight to remind me that the sun was still there. It made me think that sometimes hope begins with no more than a thimbleful of light.

Too often, we expect the feeling of hope to have a dramatic entrance, like a scene from a sweeping epic. However, hope often arrives in a quiet, almost understated manner. One encouraging moment: a phone call or text message, a kind word, a small answer to prayer, perhaps even a small patch of blue overhead.

When I later opened my car door to drive home, the overcast weather had not changed, but neither had the sun. It was there, somewhere, above all those clouds. It occurred to me that sometimes our circumstances haven’t changed—only our awareness. That tiny patch of sunlight stayed with me the rest of the day, though I didn’t realize just how much until lunchtime.

🥣 A Little Pizzazz for an Ordinary Day

Later, as I made fresh coffee and prepared my lunch—a mix of vegetable sticks, oatmeal, and yogurt with fruit—I decided to add some pizzazz to my meal. I reached for a bottle of sparkling sugar and added a pinch across my oatmeal and yogurt. For an extra bonus of fun, I also sprinkled a few chocolate sprinkles. It’s not that I wanted my lunch to be dessert, but rather I wanted a symbolic reminder.

That sprinkling of sugar and chocolate did not solve anything. The weather remained gloomy, and the humidity was stifling. Yet it allowed me to transform an ordinary meal into something playful—something that brought a smile to my face and my heart. I was reminded that sometimes joy begins the same way hope does—in small, almost unnoticed ways. 

🔎 Searching for the Hidden Picture

As a child, I spent a great deal of time in doctor’s offices. I remember the yellow Highlights magazines that always seemed to be waiting in those offices. One of my favorite features of Highlights was the “Hidden Picture” page. I’d search that page in earnest, not seeing anything at first glance. However, once I found one “hidden” item, my excitement and confidence would soar, even if I was really sick, and I quickly began finding one hidden object after another.

Life, too, can work that way. When we focus on what we are missing, that is what we see. When we begin to search for small gifts, we suddenly discover they were scattered across life’s pages all along: a sliver of sunlight, sparkling sugar and sprinkles, a fresh cup of coffee, a cool breeze, birdsong, a shared laugh, a thoughtful text, or even the peace of a house settled in quiet. None of those remove the clouds. But they do remind us that we aren’t living only in darkness. 

⛅️ The Sun Is Still There

The hidden sun, those long ago hidden pictures, that sparkling sugar—the weather never changed that day. What changed was the picture I was looking at. Gratitude is not about pretending. Joy isn’t denial, and hope isn’t ignoring reality. They remind us of what is equally true–that clouds are real, but so is the sun. Hardships also exist, but so too does grace. 

To be sure, there will be more cloudy mornings. I hope that when I next encounter gray skies, I’ll remember two things. Somewhere above those clouds, the sun is still shining. And if I examine carefully enough—or perhaps add a pinch of sparkle myself—I may discover that joy is also hidden in the picture all along, waiting to be found. Sometimes all it takes is a thimbleful of light.

What Holds

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

Marathon training changed what I thought was possible. It also taught me that some of life’s most important things aren’t meant to change.

“At the still point of the turning world. 

Neither flesh, nor fleshless; 

Neither from, nor towards; 

at the still point, there the dance is.” 

— T. S. Eliot

🌅 Morning Routine

It was still dark, cool but thankfully no longer the stinging cold of January. Reflective, fluorescent green straps and a chest lamp lit the road as I headed back to the car to meet my husband, John, finishing his workout at the gym. The first birds had begun, their harmonies promising the sun. I inhaled deeply and ran through the morning’s checklist.

Start the dishwasher once both showers were done. Finish herbal tea and refill my bottle with a hydration mix for work. Lunch was already packed—thankfully, my usual. Still left: pack my work bag, shower, and call my daughter. We typically chat most mornings while getting ready, fitting in conversation before the day takes over. Nothing unusual—just routine. 

By Thursday, fatigue would set in—work, early mornings, and daily workouts quietly draining both energy and focus. Routine wasn’t a matter of preference; it was, and still is, protection. Even then, something would likely slip through the cracks as the week wore on.

🧱 Building the Structure

I decided to run the Athens Marathon back in December, about a month after finishing the Marshall University Marathon. It felt like a way to give structure to the winter—to keep moving forward when it would have been easier not to. Paying the entry fee only strengthened that commitment.

It felt like stacking LEGO bricks into something precise. Each piece had to fit within the existing structure of life. Not everything is meant to change. Some things are meant to hold. 

Morning workouts were already the norm; they just needed to be retooled. Weekend runs grew longer. Laundry, errands, cleaning, and meal prep arranged themselves around them. The structure of the workweek held, so the miles moved earlier, stretching the edges of the day. At first, the fatigue of long runs was heavy. But the body adapted. Responsibilities did not. 

🕰️ What Changed—and What Didn’t

Brick-by-brick, I learned more about distance—and about myself. And still, there were only 24 hours in a day. Running became an integrated part of it, not the center. It provided energy for everything else. Life continued, steady as ever, carried by the constant presence and love of family and friends.

Beyond my own small routines, the world kept shifting—nationally and globally, in ways both loud and subtle. Change was constant, as it always is. And still, daily life asked the same things: to show up, to care for one another, and to keep going.

🫶 What Holds

In one sense, the training changed what I believed was possible. I stretched. I learned. I crossed the finish line. The goal was reached—but that was never the point.

Crossing that line was not about changing everything. It could not have occurred without what stayed constant—the steady and loving presence of family, the rhythm of daily life, the hope that carried me, the things that held when everything else was stretched.