Another day passes, and I don’t feel like recording it. It’s a dead day, one that will slip out of my memory as quickly as it passed through my life, and I will have nothing to show for it. Well, nothing substantial anyhow.

Yet even as I write this, I do remember the remarkable things that happened this day:

Buff-banded rail, Beenleigh, August 2012
After hiding out and being very still like a proper wildlife photographer, I manage to catch this buff-banded rail with my camera. Only after I've taken the photo and compared it to my bird guide, am I certain what it is.

  • I managed to successfully stalk, photograph and identify the buff-banded rail that is also residing in our yard.
  • An auto electrician named Bradley got The Gifted Gypsy going again, and I was able to install a second reversing camera so I now have eyes in the back of my [bus].
  • The girls opened a new packet of pens and proceeded to make elaborate pictures with bright, strong colours.
  • One babysitter cancelled, but another stepped in, and so I can still look forward to attending the Gratitude Life Class tomorrow.
  • Calista started using her bicycle as a ladder to climb in and out of The Gifted Gypsy through the window, and I stabilised the situation by bringing her the step-ladder instead.
  • Delaney is training herself to use the potty. She usually comes to me saying, “I’m busting!” but today she emptied the potty out all by herself without telling me until it was all over.
  • Aisha and Brioni fought over who was going to vacuum the floor first. It’s not like we’re short on floor-space, and they eventually settled with taking turns.
  • It rained briefly here — big, fat drops that fell on me as I sat outside. This is the first rain we’ve had since the awful days after Elijah’s death.

In writing this list, I’m reminded that each day — when I look for them — the sparkles are there. They are the reflection of the Divine essence, the joys of life, the heartbeats of love.

In the sixteenth century, the Jewish mystic named Rabbi Isaac Luria explained the creation of the world this way:

In creation, God cleared a small space in what had been an undifferentiated field of Divine energy.God then caused a flow of the Divine energy to enter into that space through a series of vessels. The vessels proved too weak to contain this Divine energy, however, and consequently shattered into countless shards of light whose surfaces then cooled to form an outer husk, much like a piece of charcoal that looks grey on the outside but contains a glowing ember on the inside. These shards, these discrete, encrusted sparks of Divine light, are what we see all around us as the creatures and objects that constitute Creation. Though we see only their outer forms, we can imagine each and every being and object as containing a glowing spark of that original Divine light.

If we look past the outer shell, if we look into the hearts of the people around us and the circumstances which hold us in their grasp, we can find that glowing spark of the Divine. Sometimes the light shines so brightly that we can’t miss it. Other times, we have to really seek out the sparkle.

I’m doing that right now — seeking out the sparkle. It’s there, so I’ll find it.