In the Ordinary

In a 1942 letter to his former student Mary Neylen, writer and professor C. S. Lewis acknowledges that we are too often caught up in life's whirlwinds, forgetting to set aside our assumptions and watch for God in the ordinary. Much like the Pharisees in their best moments, we acknowledge Jesus but secretly crave the pomp and decor of a king. But God's plan is far greater than the excitement of a parade, far more enduring than an earthly adrenaline rush: "It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present in us; it is the very sign of his presence," Lewis writes.

In her 1991 poem "Rice," Mary Oliver similarly reminds us that the deeper connectedness we crave is extraordinarily satisfied in the ordinary:

Rice

It grew in the black mud.

It grew under the tiger's orange paws.

Its stems thinner than candles, and as straight.

Its leaves like the feathers of egrets, but green.

The grains cresting, wanting to burst.

Oh, blood of the tiger.

I don't want you just to sit down at the table.

I don't want you just to eat, and be content.

I want you to walk out into the fields

where the water is shining, and the rice has risen.

I want you to stand there, far from the white tablecloth.

I want you to fill your hands with the mud, like a blessing.

How will you honor the ordinary this week, noticing the dirt and holding the mud in your hands like a prize?

May your week be blessed by God's extraordinary presence in the ordinary,

Jennie