We often find what we're looking for.

Kellen sledding down 43rd St

Although 8 inches of snow mixed with freezing rain can cause all kinds of transportation challenges here in Vancouver, Washington, it sure brightens up the holiday season for the kid in all of us. Several of the children on our street spent a fair chunk of the day sledding down the slight snow-covered slope we live on. Laughter, squeals of delight and many a “who hooo!” could be heard as they reveled in this rare phenomenon for our area.

As I watched my son go down the hill backwards, laying down and seemingly doing the happy dance I too squealed with delight.  And then I promptly went inside to thaw out with some hot tea.

photo by Dave Lafayette

I’ve been avoiding trips to the skate park with my husband and son lately.  Mostly because watching my child “catch air” scares the pants off me.  I find heaven in a comfortable chair with a good book, and this flying through the air on two wheels makes very little sense to me.  With practice, however, I’m finding that sense has very little to do with joy.

Kellen is a natural on two wheels.  He belongs to his bicycle as much as his bicycle belongs to him. Together they take each other places neither of them could venture without the other.  The speed, the pull that lifts them off the concrete, cutting the air in front of them in two and hanging in it before touching down after gravity gets the best of them. This dance they do together is pure bliss.

Slowly, slowly, I’m beginning to come around.  Looking at these photos (which were taken by Dave Lafayette) I can see how much Kellen loves to ride, how this puts him smack in the middle of that sweet and all too often rare spot called “the moment” where nothing else matters.  He’s not thinking about what he had for breakfast or trying to figure out when to fit his homework in.  He’s not even thinking.  He is just being.  Being there, in the moment, with his bicycle and the concrete and the air. Sense and logic and gravity be damned.  This is joy’s home.

Winter kindness

The parking lot where my car sits while I’m at work every day is frequented by several homeless people. I used to think I had great parking karma when I’d come in at close to 9am and still get a spot up against the building near the sidewalk.  Then one day I arrived to find the real reason I was so lucky: at the head of one of these prime spots was a person sleeping.  Some days there were two or even occasionally three people there. The days I got great parking weren’t due to the “parking angels” at all; it was because someone had been sleeping there not too long before I pulled in.

After nine months of parking in this lot, I’ve grown accustomed to its nighttime tenants. But today, walking out of the lot, I saw something new. Hanging on the parking meter just 20 feet from where homeless people can often be found was a wool jacket.  This in itself was enough to catch my eye, but when I saw the tag still on the jacket I had to take a closer look.  The jacket was purchased from Goodwill for just under $10.

I wasn’t there to see how this jacket came to rest on the meter, but you don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure it out.  It’s December, the week after Thanksgiving, and it’s getting cold out.  Some thoughtful person must have figured one of the homeless people who sleeps in the lot could use a wool coat about now. And for roughly what it costs to eat one lunch out this coat will make the winter months a bit warmer for someone in need.

When I came back at the end of the day the jacket was gone. I’m hoping it’s being worn this minute by one of the many people I see walking around downtown that need it. It brings me great joy to know at least three people have already been warmed by this random act of kindness: the person who bought the jacket, the person who is wearing the jacket, and me.

Cocoa joy

I had some time last week before Thanksgiving to sit for a while with my daughter and enjoy some hot cocoa at a great little coffee and crepe house in Vancouver called Mon Ami.  The young man working the counter took extra care to make a beautiful beverage with chocolate drizzled over the blanket of whipped cream.  He was astute enough to see we were there for some special girl time and did his best to make it memorable for my daughter, Taryn.  I wish I had asked his name.

Taryn so thoroughly enjoyed her very grown-up looking drink, served to her on a saucer with a spoon. And I so enjoyed watching her revel in this moment of chocolately goodness.

First Presbyterian Church door

Across the street from my office is one of the most beautiful stone churches.  The First Presbyterian Church and its garden take up a whole city block.  Built in 1887, this place of worship is full of fine craftsmanship and great attention to detail.  Huge wooden doors are hung with ornate hinges over a foot in length.  The hinges, the doors, the stained glass, the big chunky grey stones – the whole place is simply stunning.  When I need a mental break during the workday, I often look out my window and gaze at this old church.  I walk by it as often as I can and though I’ve never been inside, this church brings me joy every day.