Use the Good Stuff The Art of Enough · Part Three

I have always been a saver of beautiful things.

The good dishes. The linen napkins. A candle that smells too wonderful to burn on an ordinary Tuesday. The expensive olive oil tucked in the back of the pantry. A dress waiting for somewhere worthy enough to wear it.

We save things because they feel special.

And somewhere along the way, we start believing that special things require special occasions.

I’m not so sure anymore.

The older I get, the more I think being here is the occasion.

What Exactly Are We Saving It For?

I remember generations before us having entire cabinets filled with things that were rarely touched.

The china.

The crystal.

The silver.

Beautiful things carefully protected for company, holidays, or some occasion important enough to justify using them.

I understand it. There was care in that. Pride, too.

But I also think about how many of those beautiful things spent most of their lives behind a cabinet door.

And I find myself asking:

What were we waiting for?

Because eventually the linens yellow. The candle loses its scent. The beautiful ingredient expires. Our bodies change and the dress no longer fits.

Sometimes the thing we were protecting never gets to do the very thing it was made to do.

Ordinary Days Are Most of Our Lives

This may be what has changed most for me as I’ve gotten older.

I used to think of life as the big moments with everything else happening in between.

Now I think almost the opposite.

The in-between is the life.

Making dinner with Mitch.

Drinking coffee from a cup I love.

Putting flowers on the table even when no one is coming over.

Cooking something beautiful on a Wednesday simply because we’re hungry.

Lighting the candle at four in the afternoon.

Using the linen napkin instead of reaching for a paper one.

These moments aren’t filler between the important parts.

They are the important parts.

Beautiful Things Should Have a Life

I don’t want to own things I’m afraid to use.

I want scratches on the serving boards.

Stains on the linen.

Recipes splattered across the cookbook.

I want the good dishes to eventually show evidence of hundreds of dinners.

Because that means we used them.

We gathered around them.

We lived with them.

There’s something very different about caring for something and preserving it so carefully that you never actually enjoy it.

I want to take care of the things I have.

But I also want them to participate in my life.

This Goes Beyond Things

I think we save more than dishes.

We save experiences.

The restaurant for an anniversary.

The trip for someday.

The idea we keep talking about.

The afternoon we’d love to take off when things finally settle down.

The gathering we want to host when the house is finished, the garden looks better, or life becomes a little less busy.

There is always a reason to wait.

And increasingly, I’m suspicious of someday.

Not because everything needs to happen now.

But because I know how quickly now becomes then.

Use It

So this is something I’m practicing.

Use the good olive oil.

Burn the candle.

Wear the dress.

Put dinner on the pretty plate.

Open the linen napkins.

Invite people over before everything is perfect.

Order dessert.

Sit outside a little longer.

Use what you have while you’re here to enjoy it.

Maybe The Art of Enough isn’t only about recognizing that we already have enough.

Maybe it’s also about allowing ourselves to fully enjoy what we already have.

The good stuff was never meant for someday.

It was meant for the life we’re living now.