I have made a bit of a reputation for myself at work for being a coffee snob. Upon my arrival, I urged the church to upgrade the Sunday coffee from Folgers to a freshly ground local blend. The coffee is much pricier, to be sure—but it tastes so much better.
I admit to being a total coffee snob. I do not drink coffee on an airplane or from a gas station. Even though I am a regular enough coffee drinker to have a caffeine dependency, I would choose a caffeine headache to drinking bad coffee. I packed my own coffee maker and coffee when I went away to drill so I would not be subjected to the cheap Air Force Inn coffee packet, I pack my own coffee grounds when I go to camp, and I strategically time my flights around when I will have access to Starbucks or my own coffee travel mug. Ridiculous? Yes. But stay with me here.
Coffee is a small pleasure that brings me a disproportionately amount of happiness. We all have them, but they look different for all of us—indulgences that are not actually that indulgent. Yes, my fancy coffee costs four times as much as cheap coffee, but I never drink more than two cups. The coffee beans cost more but they are (purportedly! hopefully!) fair trade, which means that the people harvesting them are being paid a fair wage. The beans come from a local store, which pours money back into the local economy. Good coffee makes me eager to wake up each morning.
Your thing may not be coffee, but I bet that you have something: a favorite beer or moisturizer or perfume. High quality pens (I could write another post on this one). Socks or underwear. Golf balls. Ad-free music stations. Whatever the thing is, it elevates your mundane, day-to-day existence just a little bit.
Big, grand moments of joy are hard to come by and occasional, but tiny opportunities for happiness present themselves all of the time. When we allow ourselves to indulge regularly, we give ourselves the sense of having a rich, abundant life. Of course we must be judicious with these indulgences. If they interfere with our health—mental, physical, emotional, financial, relational, or otherwise—they probably do not lend themselves to steady repetition. Not everything needs to be luxurious because not everything matters equally to each of us. I care deeply about coffee quality but drink tap water without a thought.
When I discover a new “thing,” I lean into it. I love trying new kinds of coffee and also collecting and then using beautiful paper and stationery. I know these are small pick-me-ups that add sparkle to seeing the kids off to the school bus while completing morning chores or writing my daily to-do list. Recognizing intentional ways that are within my control that I can delight myself? That is certainly worth pursuing.