My life is so very ordinary. It’s true. I spent lots of time in denial, and can finally accept that my life is beautifully, extraordinarily, ordinary.
Last night, up lurking on Facebook, I intentionally stalked stumbled on an acquaintance from high school that recently hiked Mount Killimanjaro. Yes, you read that right. Girl hiked highest mountain in Africa. Immediately my interest peaked, as I 1) Hardly remember this person and 2) Am not sure how we became Facebook friends. Either way, she hiked Mount Killimanjaro. I lurked through hundreds of photos of tents, hiking poles, making food over a campfire, sites you only see in movies and then looked over at my bulldog snoring on my bed. Hardly close to hiking 19,000 feet above sea level.
I post photos of Christmas trees, driveways, my husband, food creations from our little kitchen, friends having coffee, concerts that no one else cares about, birthdays, holidays with family, and weddings of beautiful friends. This is how my morning went today: I woke up, chowed down on Special K, made coffee, watched the previous night’s episode of Parenthood because I didn’t want to stay up until 11pm, fed and let my dog outside, dolled myself up only to slip a hat over my frizzed out hair, and drove two miles to work. Pretty thrilling, right?
But last night around 9pm, as I was standing near the window and looking out at our backyard covered in snow, my husband came over, wrapped his pale arms around my waist and simply said, “I love my life with you.” And we slow danced to silence. Corny? Yes. Do I care? No.
On the outside looking in, my life looks pretty simple. And it is. If someone wanted to make a movie about my life, there’s a strong chance that many would fall asleep. But that’s because it’s only boring to the outsider. On the inside, it’s pretty extraordinary and beautiful.
It’s taken me a while to realize this, but life doesn’t have to look extraordinary and unique to be so. And I’m not bashing, by the way, hiking Killimanjaro. That’s beyond incredible. But my guess is in between the photos, there was a lot of ordinary wrapped up in that hike. Lots of campfires, processed camping food, bug spray, tent making, blister-repairing, laughter, tears, awkward relational moments, forgiveness, loneliness, sore muscles, and maybe even a little regret. Ordinary.
I believe God is visible and present in the crazy, Mount-Killiminjaro-moments. I also believe He is undeniably present in the small, ordinary moments. The bowls of cereal, arguments with our spouse, mortgage payments, making snowmen with children, bad recipes, raking leaves, tithing, tutoring a struggling child at a nearby elementary.
All of us are full of ordinary. But that’s what makes life so beautiful. So today I am thankful. Thankful for grocery bills, weekly menus, friendships that never change, and ordinary moments that are absolutely Divine.