I have felt glad all day today. Not a thing out of the ordinary, occurred. I did not win a sweepstakes nor unearth buried treasure. I did not solve any age old mystery, nor receive recognition for some great accomplishment, yet somehow these things pale in comparison to what did really happen.
The morning came and with it, a light cool rain. It fell gentle on the fields, as the Irish would say. By noon, the rain had stopped and the gray sky was a bright blue. The sunshine on things blooming, caused the light breeze to smell sweet.
Daffodils aren’t the only ones blooming . Snow seems to have blossomed on a variety of bushes and trees. Today, I saw a clump of Irises blooming in the shady corner of a lawn. My own are up on the rabbit patch, but they have yet to bloom-or make any promises.
Dandelion flowers are alive and well. Children have been bringing them to the music room, clasped in small hands as if they were rare gemstones-and to me they are. In the winter, children bring me small rocks , as gifts- so the lowly dandelion, soft and yellow, is beautiful in that way. It is easy to be thrilled when you receive a dandelion, or a rock, from a child. There is an expression, on a childs’ face, at such moments that acts like a tonic, and so I think, I ought to give dandelions too. The heart of a child, is a place of purity.
I met a gentleman, who tunes pianos, recently. He was a kind and interesting human and we shared a pleasant conversation. When asked how his skill came about, he said he learned it by watching another fellow and then studying manuals. He wanted to learn, so he could have a service for churches and charities. He was quite humble, as he spoke, but has been tuning pianos for decades in all sorts of churches. Some people are wonderful like that.
When I came home to the rabbit patch, Christopher Robin started purring and Moon Shine made sounds like a young dove. Cash pranced around, in the familiar way, boxers are known for. I walked under the still bare, mighty oaks. It was hard to imagine, that a common acorn, became the majestic oak.
While I was cooking dinner, it occurred to me that even dandelions and acorns can become objects of beauty, and stir the heart. I thought how the story of an humble servant could conjure up thoughts of greatness and inspiration. Truth is not always shrouded in an obscure mystery and not all lessons have to be learned the hard way. . . .and I was glad for that.