Growing in the Ordinary
I tend to want dull moments to be dismissed from my day. Much like a movie, I want to speed quickly through the brushing teeth moments and preparing meals moments. I want to focus on the parts of my day spent accomplishing rather than the mundane.
In the years of my deepest grief, this tendency was even more pronounced. Ordinary moments were incredibly painful. I desperately wanted to flee from the ordinary parts of the day. They held a deep sting. These were the times I used to be in the company of my late husband. I no longer brushed my teeth while sharing the sink. Sitting on the floor with my son no longer involved simultaneous adult conversation. I brewed morning coffee for only one now. Laundry reminded me of those darn sweat-stained undershirts I never could keep bright white. The ordinary moments held constant reminders that my world had radically changed and it hurt.
Looking back over the years, I realize how much God has used ordinary moments to change me. The parts of the day where I engage in mindless or routine tasks are where I have been learning to pay attention to my grief, worry, doubt, anger, or fear. This is where I have cultivated new habits that lead me to Jesus. Habits such as naming my emotions, noticing my body, lamenting, and pleading for the Holy Spirit to help me surrender to and embrace Truth. These ordinary moments have shaped me. Dallas Willard would say “the most important thing in life is the person you become.” What if these ordinary moments are a critical part of who I am becoming? What if ordinary is a piece of the thread of redemption God is actively weaving into the tapestry of my life.
Grief can serve as a great clarifier. Realizing in a fresh way that our days are numbered is incredibly terrifying and humbling. We come face to face with our mortality. There is also deep wisdom with the recognition that our life is just a midst. The Psalmist writes: “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12. What if ordinary time actually increases its value throughout the grief process? What if we learn to embrace a more disciplined lifestyle? What if we begin to spend less time on matters that aren’t that important? What if the silence in the bedroom before we drift off to sleep begins to lose its sting? Can we actually learn to fill the empty and painful spaces with more of Jesus?
The way we spend ordinary moments carry more weight for our souls than we realize. Today is actively shaping our becoming. When ordinary moments hold heartache, confusion, fear, or failure; they are also an invitation into deep formation. In her book Liturgy of the Ordinary, Tish Warren writes, “I’m living this life, the life right in front of me. This one where we aren’t living as we thought we might or as we hoped we would. This one where we are weary…and on this particular day, Jesus knows me, and declares me his own. On this day he is redeeming the world, advancing his kingdom, calling us to repent and grow, teaching his church to worship, drawing near to us, and making a people all his own.” When the ordinary moments seem meaningless, God is doing more than we could ever realize. God meets us in every moment and His mercies are new each morning. Let’s keep showing up. Let’s keep giving Jesus all of our heart. This is our worship. These ordinary moments are part of the redemption story.
In Christ,
