🌅 Glimmers: Goodness, Even Now
Joy is not a crumb. (But maybe it’s a fruit snack?)
“The horrors persist!” I read online. And it’s true — it so often feels like the world is on fire by the time I shuffle down the stairs to make coffee. But then, morning light filters through the window just so. A dog curls up on my lap. And I remember, just for a moment, that as Amy Peterson writes, goodness still grows.
We need—and I do mean need—those fleeting moments of beauty and wonder, of goodness and joy.
It’s costly not to stay awake to hard things. But it’s just as costly not to tune our hearts to the beauty around us.
There’s so much chaos in our world, and we’re not just spoonfed it—we’re drenched in it. Remember watching “Double Dare” on Nickelodeon, when contestants got buckets of green, gluey slime poured over their heads? That’s how the bad news feels. Constant. Relentless. A little annoying. A lot disgusting.
In journalism school, I learned early on that bad news tends to grab the headlines. It’s what they call “above the fold.” Back in ye olden days, it sold newspapers. Now, it sells clicks, feeds the algorithm, and hijacks our nervous systems.
We’re inundated not only with hardship in our personal lives but also with heartbreak in our communities, in our country, and around the world. It’s easy to become numb…or cynical. It feels responsible to stay informed, and there is truth to that. But if we fix our eyes only on the darkness (even with the best of intentions), we begin to believe that’s all there is.
And that’s a slimy green lie.
As Frederick Buechner said, “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid.”
Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
Psalm 23:6
Goodness-drenched moments remind us that, as much as tech companies might want us to be, we are not robots. We are human. We have souls.
(Hey Siri, play “Meant to Live” by Switchfoot.)
It’s weird that we have to say it, but I really feel like we have to remind one another that we are divinely made for more than the pits of despair. Isn’t that, in essence, the Christian message? That dead things don’t stay dead? That hope is on the horizon, and it is also here and now? That we are made for belly laughs and tear-stained cheeks? For warm embraces and summer sunsets? For the smell of the earth after rain? For shared meals and deep sighs and goodness that wraps around our heart and takes us by surprise?
As I’ve shared before, Deb Dana calls glimpses of goodness glimmers. (I wrote about it here.)
calls them counterweights. calls herself a glory-chaser.Whatever language we use, they all point toward this truth: We are created beings meant to marvel at creation. Sparkles of God in our weary world are the breath that keeps us going.
Science backs this up. Psychologist Barbara Fredrickson’s “broaden-and-build” theory essentially says that small moments of positive emotion—like joy, awe, and gratitude—expand our ability to think clearly, build resilience, and deepen connections.
A single glimmer can crack open your whole world with wonder.
Scripture reminds us that goodness and joy aren’t frivolous lil’ treats — they’re fruits of the Spirit. (Did I just think that maybe glimmers are little spiritual fruit snacks? Yes, I did, and no, I don’t think that theologically probably holds any weight, but it’s cute and now a pervasive thought I have to share.)
I know, I know. Hard to believe when you’ve got Christians from all over yelling at each other online. Joy feels… scarce. According to the Interwebs, anyway. (
wrote a fantastic piece that explored a bit of this).Opening our hearts to glimmers of goodness and glimpses of joy isn’t a denial of pain but our lifeline through it.
We snuggle a baby, and our cortisol levels dip. We step into an art museum and feel ourselves exhale. We put our bare feet on the grass, and the knot in our chest starts to loosen.
Poet and activist Toi Derricotte wrote, “Joy is an act of resistance.”
Finding joy, even in the face of adversity, is a powerful form of protest. I did not coin the term, and I don’t want to appropriate it, but I do want to honor it. Because those who’ve been pushed to the margins have been saying this truth in different ways for generations: joy is power.
Joy is how we keep going.
We pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.” Poet Mary Oliver famously wrote that “joy is not made to be a crumb.” What would it look like for you to embrace the feast of an idea that goodness and joy are needed nourishment for souls hungry for a more flourishing world? What would change if you asked God, on the daily, “Give us this day our daily goodness. Our daily joy.”
I returned from a walk with my husband as the sun slipped low into the horizon, the July sky meeting earth in trails of tangerine and ribbons of raspberry.
The golden hour wrapped everything in light, transforming the ordinary into something sacred. My youngest came sprinting toward me, wild and barefoot, blond curls bouncing with fists full of orange lilies yanked from the yard. A lopsided, dirt-flecked bouquet picked just for me.
Look at the lilies and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are.
Luke 12:27
Maybe you’ve had a moment like that, too.
There are more waiting for you today.
Don’t miss them.
Some Glimmers to Share
My first book, To Light Their Way: A Collection of Prayers and Liturgies for Parents, has entered its sixth (!!!) printing. Thank you. Thank you for reading the prayers, for trusting my words, and for sharing them with your loved ones. I am truly, madly, deeply honored. (See what I did there? Do you want to listen to Savage Garden now?)
I’m slowly (slower than I’d like, but still, progress is progress!) making headway on my latest manuscript! I met with my editor today and told her, “It’s the book I want to read. It’s just hard to write.” I’d love your prayers as I journey on. I’m thinking of so many of you as I write.
Our garden is starting to produce cucumbers! Our hack is to slice them up and put them in a Grillos container (still full of juice) for the laziest, tastiest refrigerator pickles.
I’ve been telling everyone I can about Sharon McMahon’s book The Small and the Mighty: Twelve Unsung Americans Who Changed the Course of History, from the Founding to the Civil Rights Movement. I was worried it might be boring but it is fascinating, and I highly recommend the audiobook — it feels like a captivating, well-researched podcast. (Use your library card to access it through Libby!)
If you like rom-coms, I flew through Better Than the Movies and Nothing Like the Movies. (Maybe the characters remind me of me and Jonny?) They’re technically YA novels, but I highly recommend! I’ve linked to Amazon, but consider checking your library instead!
For a fascinating (and sometimes disturbing) trip to the past, I have been enjoying The Gilded Age. (You can watch on HBO MAX or whatever the app is called now.)
I am lazy about pickles and also about fitness. But in an attempt to be slightly healthier, I have been enjoying this walking vest and these ankle/wrist weights.
I had to take Eliza to a specialist appointment, but the plus side is that her clinic is right next to Trader Joe’s. I bought two packages of the strawberry-yogurt coated almonds because they are that good. (May I recommend eating while watching The Gilded Age?)
Our summer has been drenched in baseball. (I think I’ve watched more than 100 youth games between my sons over the past few months!) I really love watching the Savannah Bananas and highly recommend the Bananaland documentary that ESPN produced. You can watch on Disney+.
A Blessing
from To Light Their Way
God, bless the hopes and anxieties,
The joys and the longings
Within us as we raise our children.
Bless the late nights
And the too-early mornings.
Bless the daily chaos
And the quiet moments, too.
Bless the growing hearts and souls
And their embodied hope.
Bless the future so full of promise,
And bless the past so full of grace.
Bless our belly laughs
And our bitter tears, too.
Bless the celebrations held
And the lessons hard won.
Bless the groans
When no words will form.
Bless the daily reshaping of our hearts
And the renewal of our minds
As we reshape and renew the world
With each act of love.
Bless the spirit inside us
That won’t give up on Your love.
Soul Resources for the Week
Year of Breath subscribers receive exclusive content below, which includes a new breath prayer for each day of the week, guided reflection questions, a prayerful practice, a playlist, and a phone wallpaper.
When you subscribe, it’s 1) a blessing to you spiritually, 2) a blessing to me so that I can keep writing. Thank you. Please respond if you’d like a scholarship — no gatekeeping here.
Breath Prayer
Use this throughout the week as a grounding point of return.
INHALE: I welcome the glimmers.
EXHALE: Your goodness is with me.
Monday
INHALE: The world is heavy.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Liturgies for Parents to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.