“Duty of Delight”

In Tish Harrison Warren's new book, What Grows in Weary Lands, she mentions Dorothy Day and her practice of a "duty of delight." Warren writes, "Day intentionally valued small, beautiful things: the light falling through a sunny window, the cadence of a Dostoevsky novel, the steam from hot coffee on a cold morning. To her, these were hints of resurrection. They were glimpses of the grace and kindness of God." Warren writes about how Day knew "As one gets older, we are tempted to sadness, knowing life here on earth, the suffering, the Cross," and yet Day's "duty of delight" invites us to find delight every day in the most ordinary spaces.

Recently, my family spent a week in Minnesota. We returned to a place that we loved visiting last year, and yet this year felt different. I wrestled for days trying to figure out why it wasn't the same, but it wasn't until we arrived home that it hit me.

Last year, our May was full of graduations, end of year events, banquets, and a variety of wonderful, but exhausting commitments. When our family loaded up and traveled 12+ hours to our destination, we were worn out and anticipating a slow week to properly rest and be together. Last year, when I walked into the house where we were staying, I breathed in deeply and felt tears hit my face. I knew that all of the events were over, and it was time to recharge.

During that stay, the weather was chilly, and it rained for the first few days. We bundled up in cozy clothes, stayed indoors, played games, and spent a week away from everyone and everything. It was slow. It was quiet. It was perfect.

This past year has been a wonderful year in a lot of ways, and there have been some incredibly difficult bits as well. As we prepared to travel to Minnesota, a part of me imagined this trip would mirror last year's. I imagined our days would be filled with similar things. Yet, what we needed this year was different, and I hadn't connected those dots before we set out.

Last year, a week of secluded rest helped us to unwind and prepare for the upcoming changes that would accompany the season of transition we were in.

This year, the hard that we have endured over the past eight plus months wasn't going to be over just because we went on vacation. We would arrive home to the very same circumstances.

What I realized upon arriving home was that this trip was about storing up delights. They happened to be a little less ordinary than what we can find at home, but even so, as Dorothy Day says, they were hints of resurrection and glimpses of the grace and kindness of God, and we will carry them with us even as we return to the hard bits and wait to see how they unfold.

While there, we took a day trip to Duluth to visit Lake Superior. It was spectacular. We made our way to a little town full of touristy things and had the best time visiting the old lighthouse, watching the bridge raise so ships of all sizes could leave port, and exploring some of the history of the area.

We spent an afternoon playing mini golf. The place we used to go in our town was recently demolished, so it was fun to find a course not too far from where we were staying.

My husband spent an afternoon on the Crow Wing River on a leisurely kayak adventure. One of our sons spent time walking and exploring the area, and the other one spent time photographing the wildlife. We played games. We caught up on Survivor. I colored and read books. We ate good food, and we had a lovely few days away. It was different, but it was perfect.

Jesus tells us in John 16:33, "Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrow. But take heart, because I have overcome the world."

Over the years, I've heard these words taught several different ways, but the longer I have pondered them, the more confident I am with the both/and. We will have trials and sorrow. Sadness, loss, evil. All of it is a part of this flesh and blood life we live. And Jesus has overcome the world. He hasn't left us without hope. He hasn't abandoned us to the brokenness. When I read about Dorothy Day's "duty of delight," it makes me smile as I think about how the delights point us to Jesus and the glimpses of resurrection woven into the lives we live. The delight doesn't take away the difficult bits, but reminds us that hope is woven into the whole story.

Last year, on vacation, we needed rest. This year, we needed delight. Both were profound gifts. 


May you find delight in the ordinary spaces of your week.  ~  Melissa