The topic of whimsy has been sitting in my inbox, and in my consciousness, over the last several months as I’ve approached the deadline for writing this essay. What felt like an easy, fun writing task soon revealed the ugly truth to me: I’m just not really a whimsical person. Yikes.
Sure, I aspire to be whimsical. Reading any Bob Goff book will etch that word into your vocabulary and your vision of a life well-lived. But if you ask any of my friends to describe me, whimsical won’t be among the words you’ll likely hear. Driven, busy, responsible, thoughtful, maybe even talented—but I’m willing to bet that whimsical won’t make the list.
Honestly, this grieves me. Whether it’s because of misplaced guilt or genuine conviction of the Spirit, I’m still discerning. But just the thought of writing on this topic has shown me a deep lack in my life in this area. There’s a time to be serious and accomplished, of course. But have I lost sight of something else?
About a month ago, a friend sent us an invitation to attend a reader’s theater version of Shakespeare’s As You Like It, performed by her children (four girls, between ages six and twelve), herself, and her husband. We were asked to keep the performance bar low and promised an As You Like It ice cream sundae bar at the end of the show. Of course, we needed no convincing.
Our family and another close family from their team piled into their living room, buzzing with excitement. My friend came out, donning an elaborate African kitenge costume tied around her head, and gave us a quick introduction. “In this family, we don’t do perfect—we do fun. And this show won’t be perfect, but it will be fun.”
And so it was! It’s hard to pick a favorite moment, but a standout monologue by the six-year-old, being fed lines by her father, is etched in my mind. One daughter playing two parts, one part in dialogue with the other in the same scene, the father playing a hulking wrestler . . . it was a beautiful, whimsical evening.
In the weeks that have passed, my friend’s words have stuck with me in ways I didn’t expect. “We don’t do perfect, but we do fun” is such a kind, generous mantra to hold in this global life. It seeks an outcome, but defies conventional definition. It allows for mistakes, but demands a focus on grace. It points us to a Savior who drew in the dirt, told stories that didn’t make sense, and said, “Let the little children come to me.”
My own quest for whimsy isn’t likely to end anytime soon. If I find a shortcut, I’ll let you know. But I’ve been equally inspired and challenged by this quote from one of Pádraig Ó Tuama’s recent newsletters:
“This morning, in a journal, I found that I had written ‘The driven life abandons comedy, whimsy, delight, interruptions, not stopping by the road to see what can be said.’ Beyond whether this statement is correct or not, I am most struck by the contradiction: ‘See what can be said’. Surely it would have been ‘see what can be seen’. Whatever the strange electric revealed by the slip, I am moved to remind myself, amidst agendas and demands, that whimsy and comedy are in the marrow around which serious bones grow, which for me, is so often in language.”
Pádraig is a poet and a spiritual companion who has often made his home between worlds and cultures, just like us global workers. His reminder that the driven life often abandons comedy, whimsy, and delight convicted me on sight. How often do I miss out on the whimsy, the humor, and the divine interruptions because my driven-ness has placed blinders on my eyes? What beauty, what goodness am I missing?
So, friend, I have some challenges for us.
First, let us ask the Lord to gently but clearly reveal to us what we are missing. Let us ask him to help us lay down our seriousness and embrace the silliness and the small joys. Let us listen for the answers.
Second, let us go about creating these things for ourselves. Let’s consciously seek these. Moments of lightness and humor and grace. Some ideas I have tried:
Get something that makes you laugh, and use it in your daily life. Mine is a loosely inappropriate bird pun mug. I take great delight in it every day, and it makes for some really funny moments when I accidentally use it on an important call.
Assign some kind of theme or rhythm to your days. Breakfast for dinner on Mondays, Taco Tuesdays complete with music.
Give yourself a small, rhythmic reward when something hard happens. Need to go to immigration? Or the doctor? Get ice cream after or watch a beloved movie.
Use music as a tool. We do this in a few ways in our family. We have certain music that we listen to while we play certain family games, and we have different playlists for different occasions and days. I listen to a Scottish instrumental band in the car every Monday, because Mondays can be hard and Talisk makes me happy.
Friend, I don’t know what whimsy and lightness the Lord is bringing to mind and inviting you to embrace. But I know that this is the way of Jesus, walking lightly through hard things and always staying anchored in eternal perspective.
As you walk through this season, may you sink into this, too, and fully feel the embrace of beauty and grace surrounding you and your ministry as you do. May you never let “the driven life [make you] abandon comedy, whimsy, delight, interruptions,” and may you know the joy and delight of the Lord in unexpected places.
What ideas would you add for seeking little moments of delight in your day?
