the power of words | Finding delight.

Hola! How’s everyone doing this week? We booked an Airbnb for our friends’ wedding next month. It’s in Savannah, GA and I’m getting increasingly excited about returning to that charming, southern city. Have you ever been? Any recommendations? Have a wonderful rest of your day, and enjoy a few links on me…

16 weird forgotten English words we should bring back.

Related: Are you a word nerd?

Amanda Knox shares what romance in prison actually looks like.
“Prison is an isolating place. You’re forcibly removed from your homes and support network. You’re deprived freedom of movement, of social interaction, and of time. You’re forced to submit to total surveillance and control by strangers, alongside strangers. But relationships help keep us sane, even if they’re forbidden or not ideal.”

5 tips for capturing magical everyday moments.

50 everyday acts of rebellion.

A book to help you kick the plastic habit.

Photographer Claude Cahun resisted the Nazis, escaped death, and created great art.

Martha Washington’s diamond ring. (It has a secret locket!)

To listen to NPR today — and really for most of its 47 years — is to listen to the voices of women.
“The centrality of women’s voices in establishing NPR’s distinctive sound serves as important context for thinking about the cultural and political significance of the network today. Given the unprecedented role that gender politics played in the last election, it might be worthwhile to reflect on the role of women’s voices in making public radio so threatened and, perhaps, threatening.”

How to bathe like an 18th-century queen.

Thank you (Yes you!) cards.

“I planned my wedding in 5 days. You could, too.”

A brief history of men getting credit for women’s accomplishments.

P.S. I’d like to start sharing a few links throughout the week, too. Follow Finding Delight on Facebook so you won’t miss out!

I’m a big believer in saying “You’re welcome.” I know that sounds a bit obvious. Of course anyone with a shred of decency and an ounce of home training knows to respond to thanks. I just mean I’m a fan of this specific response over others.

Mindlessly answering “No problem,” “No worries,” and, embarrassingly, “Yeah” when people tell me “Thank you” is a habit I’ve worked long and hard to break. These more flippant responses, whether purposefully flippant or not, were the result of feeling over thanked. An almost shy dismissal of the ways I was helping people out. Which is kind of weird, right? Helping people made me feel good. Doing a good job on something made me feel great. So why, when others acknowledged these things, was I brushing it off with “Oh don’t worry about it.”? Basically the equivalent of WHATEVER.

A couple years ago, in serious self-betterment mode, I made a New Year’s Resolution — Say You’re Welcome more! I flipped the tables and considered all the times I give thanks to and for others. How honest and humbled I feel in that split second of grateful recognition. How often it doesn’t feel like enough but I say it anyways because I hope small words will do the work of thousands. I figured if anyone was going out of their way to utter “Thank you,” I owed it to them to sincerely reply “You’re welcome!”

At the end of the day, we can never know the full story behind the words others choose to speak. Perhaps a “thank you” means…

Today was more than I could bear but you made it just a little bit easier.

Someone noticed.

I love you.

You’ve blown my mind/opened my eyes/made my life easier/made my hard work worth it.

And so “you’re welcome” can carry many meanings too.

I’m squeezing you tight.

You’re worth every good action and effort.

I’m the lucky one.

Thank YOU.

While I do slip up from time to time, I still try to hold by this practice of saying “You’re welcome.” I would never want to imply, through a “no problem,” that a thanks was unnecessary or irrelevant. And I would ask that you consider your own response to expressions of thankfulness.

You may have unknowingly lifted the weight of a thousand elephants off of someone’s heart or handed them the whole world on a shiny silver tray. No problem? I don’t think so.

I’d rather not diminish feelings I could never even pretend to understand.

Even in return for the smallest of gestures.

(Photo above of a chauffeur helping a woman into a Bentley in 1926. I hope she thanked him for this small gesture and that he took her thanks in stride.)