I’m not a fan of glitter. No. That’s not true. I abhor glitter, usually. More because of the fact that it’s a never-ending round of 52,000 pick-up. When I taught Second Grade, my colleagues would relentlessly tease me anytime the glitter needed to be taken out. The panic attacks that would ensue as I calculated in my head how many glitter particles 24 students were going to generate in a 20 X 20 foot room. Stopping to consider, for even a moment, how long it would take for each last errant piece of glitter to make its way out of the classroom… sorry, I need to go hyperventilate into a paper bag for moment…
The Floridian in me has officially hit The Winter Wall. The all-too-short days and lack of ability to get out and enjoy the sunshine and fresh air for long periods of time, is about to do me in. The Blues have been singing their sad woe-is-me song a little too often for my liking.The mornings have reached the point where I wake up and immediately want to lay right back down on the couch and wave the wintry white flag of surrender. My heart simply feels too heavy to try to move my body around with it. Depression, even mild depression in any form, can be irksome like that. Making your “get up and go”, lay down and stop. And that’s just not me. I’m usually a “pull yourself up by your bootstraps and carry on” kind of girl.
That, I’m finding, is precisely when the glitter should make its grand entrance. Allowing the glitter to come out and play instantly takes my mind off of feeling blue. Now, instead of focusing on how dull and dreary the day is, I can focus on how in the blue blazes I’m going to contain the glitter explosion that’s coming. And, it does. Explode. (Why does it always have to explode?)
And when it does?
The day suddenly looks much brighter. Sparkly, in fact. Whether it’s simply because I’m now inundated with copious amounts of glitter, or my focus is no longer on myself and my troubles, or because I’m now in a cleaning frenzy, I find that my spirits are lifted.
It would seem to me that glitter is a lot like grace that way. It can take even the most dreadful-feeling day
and make it all sparkly. Grace takes our most dreadful acts and covers them over like so much glitter; making us seem sparkly – when what’s underneath is still a sticky, (or worse yet, a hardened) mess.
Before I know what’s coming out of my mouth, I find myself saying things like, “Thank you, God, for glitter… and grace.”. Oh, yes I do.
And it sparkles! Oooh, how it sparkles!