Rediscovering happiness

The sound of bells wafted in the not-too-distant air, and my thoughts stopped and centered on the words “for the beauty of the Earth, for the beauty of the skies.”

As the bells continued to ring, I recalled the second verse of this hymn:

"For the beauty of each hour
Of the day and of the night,
Hill and vale, and tree and flower,
Sun and moon and stars of light,
Lord of all, to thee we raise
This our grateful hymn of praise.”

Last week, during my long blog hiatus, we travelled to Boston for my daughter’s graduation, with a very special stop in the front end in the Adirondack Mountains of New York. The little burg of Wilmington, New York had no idea what was pulling in to town when we drove up the SUV with our not-so-tiny dogs, Bing and Clover, and all of their gear. Elise and Scott arrived first with their dog, Riley who happens to be the identical pre-runner to Clover.

As we unpacked and prepared to make dinner at the rented cottage just off the main intersection of town, we sat on the back deck to reunite ourselves and the pups. The house setting included an acre of yard that edged a steep bank to the lake. Riley first discovered the lake and that a city dog can certainly love to splash and swim. Clover propelled her country dog self into the water as a swan dive/cannon ball from half-way down the bank. Bing, the dainty one, gingerly followed, making sure her toes did not get too dirty.

After an exhausting round up of our canine sweetie pies, we adjourned to the favorite meeting spot over the next four days, the back deck. An unseasonable warm day, we enjoyed the weather with bare feet and tossed hoodies to the edge of the picnic table. Elise and her dad had such a relaxed look about them, just enjoying each other’s presence, that I slipped away to see about dinner.

Scott chopped vegetables as I prepared the grill meat. Outdoors, the evening sky still held daylight’s warmth, and we heard church bells chime from a church less than a block away. Yes, they were recorded bells and I initially thought this to be a bit cliché, but as the old Reformed hymns played, my mind drifted to the words I have known by heart since childhood.

Steaks sizzled as we held back the shrimp and vegetables until the last minute. The kids live in a city apartment, so the aroma of dinner grilling with a back drop of mountains, bells chiming, and sleeping dogs at their feet seemed to just draw life’s tension out right through their ears.
We feasted; the sun set on the beautiful scene, and the bells rang out again. We were to find out that the bells boldly rang out beautiful sentiments of my faith every hour during daylight. At the chiming of How Great Thou Art, I had to stop what I was doing to absorb.

As dusk settled, I sat back with a full belly, my dearest daughter next to me, our beloved son-in-law, Roger, and our three “children,” I felt a distantly familiar feeling….happy. There was a time in my life when I would have felt the content feeling of happiness on an evening like this and not even recognized it.

This time, when happiness was abruptly interrupted by tragedy last fall, it took me a few moments to recognize my old friend. We had adjourned to the Adirondack chairs on the deck by this time, and watched stars instead of mountains. Elise suggested playing cards and we all agreed we were too relaxed to hold the necessary competitive edge.

Happiness. The feeling crept up gradually and I recognized my long, lost friend slowly. It first began as a soft, warmth washing across my heart. I heard the voices of my loved ones and they were not coming through a little cell phone receiver; the moonlight gave their faces a glow and I knew they were really, really there with me, and for the moment, no one could take them away.

The words of hymn writer John Rutter came to mind: “For the beauty of each hour; of the day and of the night…Lord of all to thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise.”