An Ordinary Day: Thursday's Reflection

NOTE: I am going to take a brief break and my next post will be 
Thursday, February 15.

Wednesday Morning: I slept late this morning and, in fact, I am still in my pajamas as I write this post. I have stripped the bed and will throw the sheets in the washer when I go downstairs to take a shower, but in the meantime I enter my day gently.

I walked up the stairs to the garret, and as I always do, I paused on the landing and looked out the window to the backyard. Ah, we have a fresh dusting of snow. Such lovely snows we have had this winter--wispy, cleansing snow. 

I sat in my Girlfriend Chair for morning devotion time. I hoped I could focus, for I have a cold, just an ordinary cold, but yesterday was a busy day, and I couldn't give into it or let it take over. Today I can wrap it in flannel. Today I can slow down and listen to its rhythm. 

I opened Joan Chittister's The Breath of the Soul, Reflections on Prayer to read today's brief message, which is about "routine." 

               Morning prayer done every day, consciously 
               and contemplatively, defines the attitudes we will
               take into the day with us. It gives us a framework
               for looking at life that gets behind the burden of
               the day to come and the warnings of impending
               disaster that come with the morning news. It takes
               us to the source of what it will take to sustain us
               as we go.

Yes. 

Tucked in the book is a small square of paper with a single name on it. Zack. During Sunday's church service we were invited to write a prayer concern and place it in a basket near the font. During Communion we could randomly select one of the other pieces of paper to guide our prayers during the week. 

Each morning I have held this small green piece of paper, and it has felt like I am holding Zack. I don't know Zack. I don't know who requested prayers for him or why. It is enough to know he needs prayers, and he heads my list this week. God be with you, Zack.

My prayers anchored this morning time, and I am grateful for I feel a bit woosey. Is that a word? Maybe this cold has declared temporary ownership of my body. Yesterday I finished the book I was reading during meditation time, and now it is time to choose another--normally a welcome task. Today, however, I flitted from book to book and did not land. I opened my journal to write, wanting to record insights from yesterday's activities, but my pen just dangled over the page. I decided to sit in the stillness once again. 

                 May you grow still enough to hear the
                 stir of a single snowflake in the air, so that
                 your inner silence may turn into hushed
                 expectation. 
                               Br. David Steindl-Rast

I sat in the hush until it was time to make my morning phone call to my Dad. Our brief check-in time. I want to know how he is and he wants to know how I am. We are both "fine," we tell each other. 

I glanced at my desk, which is just the way I left it yesterday with the week's To Do list in prominent display. I didn't check anything off that list yesterday. I wonder about today. I need to bargain with my cold, I think. "If you let me do x and y, I will take a nap this afternoon. How does that sound?" 

And so the day began. An ordinary day, as most days are. 
Thanks be to God. 

An Invitation
What does your ordinary day look like? I would love to know.