Making the Most of an Ordinary Day

Fog
Tomorrow, I will drive my parents to Arkansas.  We will go to Wilmar/Monticello, the southeastern part of the state where my mother grew up.  It has been years since I have been there.  But I look forward to going.  I have a lot of very good memories of going there as a child.  In particular, I enjoyed being there on Christmas. 

 

My grandparents lived in a white frame house on a two lane highway coming into Monticello.  They had a garden, a barn, a shed–all sorts of places where a city boy could explore.  I have wonderful memories of riding on the tractor with my grandpa.  At other times, he would take us to the woods.  He ran a lumber mill and seemed to know about every kind of tree.  I remember cold Decembers, riding in his pickup truck.  With the deaths of my grandparents, all of those memories seemed to come to an abrupt stop.

 

At the time, I did not realize that we were making important and significant memories.  I did not realize that one day I would look back and wistfully long to experience these moments again.  No–at the time I was just living.

 

Today, I suspect the same is happening.  Today I will just be living.  But–it could be that I will make some memories as well.  It could be that some of this "ordinary living" will actually turn out to be very significant.

 

As I think about today, I don’t want to be overly focused on the past or consumed by what will happen in my future life on this earth.  I do want to be very present in ordinary life.

 

As I think about the last few weeks, they have been ordinary in many ways.   That is, they are very similar to many other weeks:

  • Time spent in conversations with people about their children, their aging parents, sicknesses, etc.  I’ve talked in my office with a number of people.  On the telephone with a concerned parent.  A number of e-mails in which people expressed concerns and issues that were deeply personal
  • Time spent being with Charlotte.  Talking on the telephone with Christine, Phillip, and Jamie (my children and son-in-law).  Being with special friends.
  • Time spent mowing, weed-eating, dealing with loose insulation in the attic, and paying bills.

 

Ordinary stuff.

At the moment, I am sitting at my desk at home.  I am looking at a small clock on my desk.  The second hand sweeps around the face of the clock every 60 seconds.  At some point, the clock in my life will come to a halt.  Life on this earth will be over for me.  I know–we all know this.  Many of us just don’t think about it very much. 

 

How will I live in the meantime?  How will I deal with the ordinary moments of life?  Will I consciously live in the presence of God, even in the most mundane moments?  Will I be open to however God wishes to redeem the ordinary moments of my life?

Just thinking about this today…