There are days in my life where not much happens. Yesterday was one of those days. I worked on various proposals and ideas. I took time to write. I answered the various emails that came in and sent a few out myself. I cleaned up around the house. I even had the interior of the car cleaned (the level of wood chips in the rear was beyond my abilities to clean). As I reflect on the day, I want to tell you more about it, but there does not seem to be much worth telling.
Life often seems ordinary, almost boringly so. When I read how some were “working their way back through Pisidia, they came to Pamphylia and preached in Perga” (Acts 14.25), I am almost not interested. I do not know the cities. They have no relevance to any history that I am familiar with. I cannot find a reason to care. Yet, there is part of me that knows there was a miracle in every day then as well as now.
Buried in yesterday’s mundane are small things that I initially did not pay much attention to. I listened to a friend struggle and found myself lifted up as I extended a hand to help. I found myself rediscovering the wonder of a child’s voice because another friend is living the reality of being half a world away from family. Even a virtual conversation and image shared by a friend reminded me of the hidden beauties that are always found in life’s shadows.
Each discovery in the ordinary was a miracle in itself. When I combine the experiences, I find myself realizing that my mundane day was anything but. As humdrum as it first appeared to me, on reflection, I can see Truth reaching out to me. God was communicating, regardless of my state of attention. Goodness was trying to help, even when I did not know that I needed it.
Several friends complained yesterday. I would love to know about the miracle in their lives. I know each had at least one.
