Ordinary

Every day can feel like the same thing, the day rolls over on itself and we go through the motions and I say the same things, and we fight the same fights and nurse the same wounds–it’s typical, ordinary. Sometimes a hidden resentment builds looking at all this surface stuff, and a longing for something more gnaws bitterly at my heels.

Then she asks to paint and I say yes, instead of no, because she loves color and motion and painting is two loves in one for her, and her swirls are a sucker-punch in the gut of an ordinary afternoon, when my vision’s turned foggy and ungrateful.

I haven’t picked up my camera in weeks because of ordinary. It overwhelmed me–ate up my happiness and soured my mood but good. But for a few minutes, in the afternoon sun, her hair shines and she sings and spins the paint brush with such an inner joy that my crusty heart cracks a bit and I absorb her light like the sun I’ve been missing.

I’m warmed in her delight at ordinary watercolors splashing across a page and repentant of the way I’ve so often cursed the ordinary–for how I’ve seen plain, as-usual as something to be cast aside, forgotten and not treasured.

This is my life, a repetitive walk through similar days, washing the same clothes, and dishes and wiping up the same messes again and again and again. There’s so much grace in these moments of sameness. These are holy moments unfolding right in the middle of a day that looks a lot like the ones before.

I’d nearly forgotten.

Joining the other fabulous writers at Lisa-Jo’s place for Five Minute Friday

Encore Link Up

On the first of the month I like to host a little link up here, where you share your favorite post from the previous month–the one you wish more people had read, the one you worked so hard on–share it here, and encourage your friends who link up too. This is a fun way to read the good stuff we might have missed last month! Join us!

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