It’s taken me a while in my life to fully understand small comforts and just how important they are.

I used to believe that things had to be grand and glorious or they didn’t count.

Silly me.

Yes, there are things that I might like to experience. Things that are big and bold like taking a month-long vacation or replacing my entire wardrobe at one time, or even having more than two or three pairs of shoes.

But truth is, I get along fine without those things.

I live a simple life by choice and circumstance.

And in my simplicity I find great comfort in small things.

  • I start my days with a cup or two of good coffee and honest-to-goodness cream. Well, half and half to be precise. Not a lot, but enough to comfort me. Skim milk in coffee just doesn’t ring my bell.
  • I read something uplifting every day. I have a stack of books from which to choose. Some I’ve read multiple times. This puts me in a frame of mind to welcome what may come my way, rather than dread it.
  • Thanks in large part to Bud and Pepper, I spend time almost every day in nature. I stop what I’m doing and take deep breaths, gaze into the clouds, watch sunsets, and marvel at the changing season.
  • I spend time with people I love. A smile, a touch, the experience of being deeply listened to are small comforts with gigantic rewards.
  • I take naps when I’m tired.
  • I surround myself with color and images and art that thrill me. It’s not all expensive – in fact little of it is. But each thing has meaning and value to me. When I find an artist I like, I buy a card or poster and frame it. That way I’m supporting the artist’s work and giving myself a visual vitamin.
It was my two old sweeties who really helped me grasp the concept of small comforts.
They are partners, friends, and in the end a herd of two. Despite a few dalliances, Bud and Pepper are each other’s support system. We can’t take one out of the pasture without the other. When the farrier or vet comes, Bud and Pepper provide comfort for each other. We tie them side by side as they get worked on. Occasionally they touch heads or noses. I suppose it’s their way of confirming, “You’re still here and I’m not alone.”
It’s a small, but terribly important comfort.
And couldn’t we all use more of those?
What about you? What are some of your small comforts?