I love the beauty found in castoffs and things discarded.
And I’m often compelled to repurpose and find function for mundane and quirky objects
that become symbolic of something bigger simply in their arrangement. Anne
Morrow Lindbergh understood this: “That had been their fourth time. She put
four diamond buttons in an exact row on the windowsill.”
The French call it bricolage: making artful use of objects at
hand in a way that instills new meaning or upholds a legacy or story.
I’m especially partial to objects in sets of threes, which is
likely tied to my precious relationships with my three children. But what
really takes my breath away is when I happen upon a “treasure of three”
unexpectedly, either naturally occurring or something placed and forgotten by
someone who came this way before. There seems to be a deeper significance than
random arrangement would explain.
These kinds of items become sparks of inspiration, reminders
of times past, and lovely connections to caring relationships. When I hold them
in my hand, they feel relevant and seem to take up more room in my heart than I
I can think of a million reasons to look for significance
and meaning in nature and simplicity, but I need only three.