The day my dad died, my whole world seemed to stop. There were all the moments before I heard the news, and all the moments after. And in between those moments is a line. Before death. After death.
The days between his death and the funeral were busy, lonely, exhausting and anything but ordinary. I’m not sure if anybody’s clothes were washed that week, or who even made dinner. Any sense of routine or rhythm was knocked off-kilter. There was so much dissonance between doing simple, everyday tasks and what was actually going on in my life. Cleaning the dishes or hanging up the washing felt like a simple pleasure that grief simply couldn’t afford. Ordinary days seemed distant, reserved for places where grief and tragedy had not taken residence.
That I had lost my father and that the world was still spinning were two facts I couldn’t quite reconcile. On the one hand, I was grateful for the distraction of ordinary things. On the other hand, I was angry and irritated that the ordinary things in life just had to keep on going.
When I became a mum to our first daughter, I would spend all of her naptimes, with her sleeping on me in a carrier (she never napped in her cot) sitting at our dining table in the house we lived in, editing wedding photos. On the weekend my husband and I would sometimes do a bit of housework, but it was never really something I looked forward to. I struggled to find joy or meaning in doing some of those more mundane tasks. I didn’t mind having a bit of a ‘nothing’ day, but I didn’t love it. I always wanted to be doing something a little more exciting. I didn’t see how the tiny moments mattered - to me, to anyone else, or to God.
Sometimes there are weeks and weeks of what feels like the same thing over and over again. Ten weeks straight of making school lunches. Asking the kids to listen, again and again and again. Reading the same picturebook for the millionth time. Putting the baby down for a nap. Rain.
Other times it feels like you’ve been placed in the washing machine on a continuous spin cycle.
I know I’ve thought that the spin cycle kind of life is where our faith is strengthened most and where God is working in all His big and mighty ways. This note is from my journal, written a few weeks after Dad passed away:
I can see how those words have been true for my own life. Passing through the rivers rapids of grief shaped me in life-altering ways, even if I wasn’t aware of it at the time. To be honest, though, I wanted my old boring life back. The one where I wasn’t the 28-year-old without a dad and where Father’s Day didn’t make my heart hurt. Could I still have the ordinary, now that everything felt different?
I began to store up those uneventful days like treasure and saw, with fresh eyes, that God was working in every mundane moment too. He is there in every ordinary day, shaping us through a million everyday things. And that’s no less significant.
-Paul David Tripp-
I don’t resent uneventful days anymore (okay, maybe the lunchbox part, but I’m working on that) I pray for them, and I thank God for every boring, ordinary day. Days of feeding mouths and changing nappies and washing clothes and filling lunchboxes. Days of watering plants, making shopping lists, making tea cups, and making a sad face happy with a tickle. Days of mopping floors and having coffee with a friend and spending time in the garden. Days of paying bills and finding time for exercise and forgetting to take the meat out of the freezer for dinner. Days of home readers and sibling rivalry and making a hundred snacks and saying sorry, sorry, sorry.
My ordinary likely looks different than yours. And for many of us, transitions, changes or tragedy can mean painfully adjusting to a “new normal”. Take heart - we don’t have to wait around for those spin cycle days for God to do his work in us. He is doing his work, right now, in the million tiny moments that make up your life.
Exciting, much-longed-for days will come along. Hard days will greet you too. And hopefully, in between them, will be the ordinary moments that most of our life is made up of.
Whatever the shape of your days, take each one as a gift of grace. Hold on to them, ordinary or otherwise. I know I am.
I’m hardly the first person to write about seeing God’s hand in the ordinary. Here are a couple of resources that I’ve found helpful, that you might too.
Paul Tripp has written extensively about how the tiny moments matter - his book on marriage is full of examples, and well worth reading! We also love New Morning Mercies.
Beholding and Becoming by Ruth Chou Simons - an illustrated book highlighting the beauty in every part of life.
Treasuring Christ When Your Hands Are Full by Gloria Furman - I should have a set of these on my bookshelf because it’s my go-to gift for new mothers. It has been such an encouragement to me!
Risen Motherhood - the book and the podcast bring gospel truth to everyday moments. Highly recommend!
Yes to seeing and receiving each and every day as a gift of grace! 🙏🏼💛
Beautifully written Aimee! Life experience and even maturity in age definately makes your crave and enjoy those everyday moments and see God's goodness through it all. Something I am definately finding more and more each day.