A few years ago I was skimming through the Sunday paper, looking through the Target circular to see their latest deals and steals. My oldest daughter, a preschooler at the time, was looking over my shoulder and happened to see an ad for a Disney movie that she wanted.
Her: Momma, can I get that movie?
Me: Maybe some time.
Her: I want to get it today.
Me: Well, maybe for a special occasion. But, today’s not a special day.
Her: Yes, it is.
Me: Oh, really. What day is it?
Her {very matter-of-factly}: It’s the second day of fall.
What can you say to that? I didn’t rush to Target to buy The Princess and the Frog just because I had been outwitted in conversation by a 4-year old. But it did make me stop and think about how I wish I had a touch more of that kind of childish wonder for what most of us would consider to be a very ordinary day.
Nothing about me is inclined to like the ordinary, especially not in a day and age when anything mundane or monotonous is almost a synonym for slack or unmet potential. Last week I came across a footnote in my Bible that I’ve highlighted because it so succinctly describes my problem. It reads:
“The Holy Spirit gives Christians great power to live for God. Some Christians want more than this. They want to live in a state of perpetual excitement. The tedium of everyday living leads them to conclude that something is wrong spiritually. Often the Holy Spirit’s greatest work is teaching us to persist… even when it no longer seems interesting or exciting.”
Life Application Study Bible, footnote on Galatians 3:5
Ouch. I could definitely use a primer in persisting in the tedium, especially in this season of pickup lines and practices, homework help, and dinner prep. Many of my days and weeks look and feel strangely similar to the days and weeks that came before. And I have a hard time framing the long afternoons and evenings as special days or holy days.
Yet, they are. Because every day is “a day the Lord has made.” Worthy of our rejoicing and gladness. Worthy of our presence and attention.
It’s interesting how much Jesus enjoyed being around children. Maybe this was in part because of their appreciation for the ordinary. They weren’t looking to him to wow them with a miracle or impress them with his theological insights. They didn’t need a sermon or a sign. Maybe they just enjoyed his company and lived fully in the moment with him in a way he found refreshing.
At the ages they are now, all three of our girls wake up on the weekends asking, “What are we going to do today?” Rarely is my answer exciting. But I’m trying to remember and model for them that exciting doesn’t have to be exotic or extraordinary. I want them to remember, in as much as it’s possible to do so, what it felt like to be little and able to look forward to the simplest of pleasures as highlights of the day. Sure, we can love theme parks and parties. But we can also learn to love nature walks and naps, biscuits and benches, coffee and conversations.
I read a quote a few years ago that continues to challenge me.
Do not ask your children to strive for extraordinary lives. Such striving may seem admirable, but it is the way of foolishness. Help them instead to find the wonder and the marvel of an ordinary life. Show them the joy of tasting tomatoes, apples and pears. Show them how to cry when pets and people die. Show them the infinite pleasure in the touch of a hand. And make the ordinary come alive for them. The extraordinary will take care of itself.
{William Martin}
I don’t have anything particularly exciting on the calendar today. I’ll spend the afternoon in carpool lines and on roadways taking people to various after school activities while slinging snacks over my shoulder. It’s very possible that I won’t have anything tangible to show for my waking hours today. But still, today is a special day. It’s Thursday. It’s the third day of our “faux fall” here in East Tennessee.
And it’s an ordinary gift none of us want to miss.
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