Contentment

Learn to like what doesn’t cost much.

Learn to like reading, conversation, music.

Learn to like plain food, plain service, plain cooking.

Learn to like fields, trees, woods, brooks,fishing, hiking and exploring.

Learn to like life for its own sake.

Learn to like work and enjoy the satisfaction of doing your job as well as it can be done.

Learn to like the song of birds, the companionship of dogs, and laughter and gaiety of children.

Learn to like gardening, carpentering,  puttering around the house and lawn, and being creative.

Learn to like the sunrise and sunset, the sound of the rain on the roof and wind and the gentle fall of snow on a winter day.

Learn to keep your wants simple. 

Refuse to be owned and anchored by things and opinions of others.

Lean above all, to make God the most important part of your life.


About a year ago I found this poem at my Aunt Julie's house, hanging by her kitchen sink.  I copied it and took it home, and hung it near my kitchen sink for a few months, then on my bathroom mirror, and then I brought it to my desk to do something more with it, to give it a little more life, and maybe make it easier to remember. 

{Click on to enlarge}


I could not find the original author, only that it was on the back of an obituary many years ago, though Aunt Julie's mom, who owns Camp Creation near Leighton, IA, changed some phrases in it.

I posted this poem on my blog about a year ago, and got responses from friends who really appreciated it.  So I thought some might enjoy reading it again.

I've been collecting things I find on contentment over the past year, but was impacted by one line in worship last week Sunday.  During the responsive reading of The Law, the congregation spoke, "We will be content through any circumstance, because of the strength of Christ with in us."

As a response to the tenth commandment, "Thou Shall Not Covet," we committed to being content.  And then I thought of this poem again, and pulled it out of the folder I had filed it in.