Now, isn't that special?

If Murphy were still writing his dismal laws, the very next one on his list would surely be: "An item will suffer disaster in direct proportion to how valued, cherished, and irreplaceable it is." There'd be an addendum to this rule, naturally, stating that it only applies to my things, which explains why I dread purchasing anything special. It's as if a bull's-eye appears on it the moment my credit card crosses the checkout counter.

The latest treasure to bite the dust--or to be more accurate, shatter on the tile--was my Nantucket mug, the one with the blue whale on it. I'd purchased it the last time we were in Nantucket, knowing that whenever I used it, I'd be reminded of those precious, lazy island days on a deserted beach with nothing better to do than decide what to have for supper.

Truth is, the reason my stuff gets banged, bruised, and broken is that I insist on using them. When I was growing up, money didn't grow on trees. On the rare occasion when we received something distinctive, it was put away and saved for a "special occasion." However, no occasion seemed special enough, so most things--fancy stationery, scented bath beads, nice clothes--disintegrated or went out of style before they were used. They were just too special.

Now I know better. I know that if you love something, you should use it for the pleasure it brings and the memories it evokes. How else will it add meaning to your humble existence?

Isn't that how everything in life works? Good words need to be spoken, not saved for that "perfect" moment. Thoughtful actions should be well worn, not rusty from disuse. It doesn't take long to brighten someone else's day--only a little care and thought. Plus, it provides a great opportunity to use that gorgeous stationery, those hand-created museum print cards, that special tea set, the ornate serving platter with the daisies on it, etc., etc.

But what if we bumble it, mess up, make fools of ourselves in our attempts to bring joy to others? That's the chance we take when we risk showing kindness. It doesn't mean we shouldn't do it. In fact, if we do mess up, we'll have the satisfaction of having tried.

It's the same with my special stuff. When something breaks, I can at least look back with pleasure on the times I used it. What can you look back on if you never took the risk, stepped out, made the effort? A quiet life? Sure. A safe life? Absolutely. A well-lived life? No.

Beauty and thoughtfulness serve powerful purposes. They elevate our consciousness above the humdrum of daily living to where all is tranquil and ordered. Beautiful words, thoughts, sights, and possessions feed a corner of our existence that yearns for heavenly places.

In her book Living a Beautiful Life Alexandra Stoddard writes, "Instead of rushing through our lives to get somewhere, instead of saving up real living for later, I think it's important to remember that each single day is all we have. Single days experienced fully add up to a lifetime lived deeply and well." The Bible underscores that thought: "A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver" (Proverbs 25:11).

So, go ahead. Speak your beautiful words. Do your thoughtful deeds. Use your beautiful things. And when it comes time to unload the dishwasher, be very, very careful.

Celeste Perrino-Walker--author, wife, mother, and editor of Listen magazine--keeps all her treasures in Rutland, Vermont.