One More Ordinary Day
We'll all have one.
A last ordinary day.
It's the day before the accident. The day before the diagnosis. The day before the disappearance. The day before the allegations. The day before the death. The day before our whole reality shifts.
Our last quiet day.
The thing about these days is that we don't recognize them for what they are. They only reveal themselves in retrospect.
When we consider the tragedies that run like Lines of Demarcation through our lives -- and we all have them -- perhaps we wish to go back to the days right before the incident. To the days when everything was normal. Back when we didn't realize how good we had it.
The so-called "good old days."
Sadly, most of us didn't appreciate the "good old days" when we were in them. That's because even on the best days, we're so easily wrapped up in small worries and petty annoyances -- things that matter little in the long run but fill our horizons when they're happening.
I'm not sure why, but lately I've been hyper-aware of this thought. Maybe it's because I've already experienced this phenomenon and know it will eventually roll back around. Maybe it's because world events seem to be escalating toward something history-altering, and I know the present tense won't continue indefinitely.
Or maybe I'm just paranoid.
Either way, lately I've been thanking God for each ordinary day. For another quiet day doing my work, serving Jesus, drinking my coffee, and loving my family and friends.
To borrow from Cummings, I say:
i thank You God for most this ordinary
* * *