Light In the Ordinary.

Past ponderings of life and purpose and the light that we miss

This piece was written two years ago on a Saturday spent with my children, yet as I reread it, I found it to resonate with my life today. I hope it proves useful to you too.

Light tips of frost cling to each blade of grass as the sun remains hidden behind grey melancholy skies.

I gaze out the window of the familiar coffee shop I end up at every Saturday morning, with my son and daughter at my side.

“Date day” we call it, and we have honored this tradition since my daughter was born.

My daughter, a vivacious girl of two years old with uncontrolled curly dirty blond hair, sits in the spot next to mine, sipping on her steaming hot chocolate. The whipped cream dots her nose each time she goes in for a drink, making us both smile.

My son, an observant and contemplative 8 month old, takes in the changing scenery around him from his place on my lap, my leg tapping rhythmically to maintain his emotional composure. He looks up at me, his chubby baby cheeks tightening to form a big doughy smile. Oh how I love that smile.

Saturdays are my favorite day of the week. If I could store time in a bottle, I’d store every Saturday morning forever and hug them close to my chest. They are priceless to me.

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Sometimes I wonder if we miss the beautiful, priceless little nuggets of time that show up in the mundane moments of every day life.

The warm cup of coffee clasped between chilled, dry hands

Cheap cardboard pizza and fruity red wine and full-bellied laughter among close friends

Holding a swaddled newborn baby close as it cooes and grasps aimlessly at the world, the wooden rocking chair creaking and aching in a routine tune

Walking outdoors in the brisk stillness of dusk, watching the night sky come to life with the adorning of speckled stars, whispering silent praises to the one who put them all in their neat place

Curling up with a blanket and unsweetened green tea to read a familiar book; the spine creased from many a time shared together and the all-too-welcoming scent of old almond vanilla still pressed into each page.

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What if life is more than just the “grand” times and accolades?

What if — by holding space and cherishing the things we consider most normal, we magnify the little things and in doing so, they become grand?

What if the best things in life are right in front of us right now? This second? In each breath?

What if the purpose of life is simply to love? Perhaps we are the miracles, a radiance born of divine light, and when it dims in our own sight, it is rekindled through the love of another.

The only competition worth keeping is the one with the man in the mirror—each wrinkle, each scar, proof of wisdom and growth.

Keep the trophies.
The recognition.
The standing ovation.

I’ll take the simple life.

The laughter of my children.
Worship services and three-point sermons.
The warmth of love that surrounds me.
And the quiet joy of knowing it is enough.