Holiness comes wrapped in the ordinary. There are burning bushes
all around you. Every tree is full of angels. Hidden beauty is waiting
in every crumb.
Macrina Wiederkehr
Macrina Wiederkehr
Word of the Week: EVERYDAY
Each morning brings a new voyage, the destination always unknown. Our lives are packed full as vacation suitcases with the everyday, from which the chance for miracles, for wonders, always arises.
In some now-dim past as I began my first gratitude journal, I realized that "I'm still here" was a significant declaration, not some ho-hum, I've run out of things to say, default. It is not so much that peril just lurks, loiters, expecting our unwariness. It is more that the unforeseen, the unwelcome, finds us all. I celebrate surviving those encounters. Best not to take them at face value for frequently it is within them that we see the impossible manifest.
Whether I feel equal to the task or pitiful and outnumbered, life seems to expect me to show up every day. I suspect one of the attractions I feel for the color red is its boldness. Red does not cower or apologize for being. It does not explain, simply bringing as much glorious redness as it can muster to circumstances of the moment. We don't notice its flattened hair, pouchy eyes or abbreviated attention span. It may appear wearing house pants and pilly socks. No matter what, it is still red and it is here, at its heart always and only red. Why would we be different?
We, you and I, are pieces of holiness that come wrapped in the ordinary. Even when we can't claim to be fully robust with optimism, with enviable efficiency or even physical strength, we remain seers, questing souls, our hues authentically bright. Because we know it exists, hidden beauty is the source of our secret strength.
Each morning brings a new voyage, the destination always unknown. Our lives are packed full as vacation suitcases with the everyday, from which the chance for miracles, for wonders, always arises.
In some now-dim past as I began my first gratitude journal, I realized that "I'm still here" was a significant declaration, not some ho-hum, I've run out of things to say, default. It is not so much that peril just lurks, loiters, expecting our unwariness. It is more that the unforeseen, the unwelcome, finds us all. I celebrate surviving those encounters. Best not to take them at face value for frequently it is within them that we see the impossible manifest.
Whether I feel equal to the task or pitiful and outnumbered, life seems to expect me to show up every day. I suspect one of the attractions I feel for the color red is its boldness. Red does not cower or apologize for being. It does not explain, simply bringing as much glorious redness as it can muster to circumstances of the moment. We don't notice its flattened hair, pouchy eyes or abbreviated attention span. It may appear wearing house pants and pilly socks. No matter what, it is still red and it is here, at its heart always and only red. Why would we be different?
We, you and I, are pieces of holiness that come wrapped in the ordinary. Even when we can't claim to be fully robust with optimism, with enviable efficiency or even physical strength, we remain seers, questing souls, our hues authentically bright. Because we know it exists, hidden beauty is the source of our secret strength.
