The Sacredness of the Ordinary

Just thinking….

Remember that screeching voice out of the ’60s: “Oh Lord, won’t you give me a Mercedes Benz…….”? Yeh, you remember. It was a lifestyle mantra swirling around in anti-establishment atmosphere. Don’t give me the ordinary little jalopy. Don’t give me my parent’s old Buick. Don’t give me the Pinto wagon. Let’s go all the way; give me the Mercedes, the Beemer, the Caddy.

The ordinary. Almost a bad word. We don’t want our kids to be ordinary. They need to be all-stars, all-American, cheerleader, student-council-president, national honor society material. What parent brags, “My kid is a straight C student!”

Our homes aren’t ordinary. Why settle for a post WW2 starter home when the McMansion is just over the hillside? Three bedrooms? Four? Five? And there’s only the two of you?

Does anyone have an ordinary job anymore? Someone out there still makes paperclips; I just know it. But when I ask about the job, I hear things like: “We’re power-lunching today at noonish to go over the consulting.” Huh?

Get it? We”re an inflated society, and I don’t just mean the economy. Everything has to be over the top, bigger than life. Whatever happened to the ordinary?

God made me ordinary. Now there are times I think I’m pretty special; those times don’t last real long. But when I look into the mirror, I see an ordinary 60 year old face with hair that is losing its shine, allergy circles under my eyes, a nose that looks suspiciously like my grandfather’s, capped teeth, and ears that can wiggle. Ordinary. But the Hubs tells me I am beautiful, and sometimes………. I believe him. That’s the beauty of marriage. God gave us desire for each other that transcends the ordinary and makes it sacred. I told the Hubs recently that “You inspire desire.” I don’t want cheap, vulgar, ordinary love; I want the sacred ordinary love.

So what is the sacredness of the ordinary? It’s recognizing God’s hand in the usual, the plain, the everyday. I prepare supper every night (OK, almost every night). It’s an ordinary task. But when I stop to consider the Source of my food, the Giver of the electricity, He who has provided all I own, then I realize that the food and the ability to cook it is sacred.

I live in a really nice house. I love it. Although I must admit, it’s up for sale and nobody else seems to love it or think it as nice as I do!! It was so exciting when we built it. I would walk around the plywood sub-floor, smelling that wonderful fresh cut wood smell and practically drool all over myself. Three bedrooms! Imagine! Our little starter home had 2 bedrooms and another little room built off to the side that might have been a bedroom in another life. Our rental had one bedroom. But our new house had three real bedrooms! Now, 30 some years later, it’s ordinary. It’s no big deal to have three bedrooms. When we built the house, we dedicated it to the Lord. We said, “Lord, it’s Your house.” If it was His, then it wasn’t cheap and common; it was sacred. Have I lost sight of the fact that it’s all His? Do things become so ordinary to me that I forget the Source?

Friends. The Hubs and I are blessed with so many friends. There are the few who know us inside and out, and love us anyway. There are the many who fulfill various functions in our lives. Some are my scrapbooking friends. Some are my writing buddies. Some are my cooking cohorts. All are ordinary people. But they are extraordinary in what they mean to us. I was in a car wreck years ago, and my body felt like a rubber band that had been stretched so far that it couldn’t return. My face kissed the steering wheel and I broke my teeth. But my friend Barb loved me anyway. She tenderly helped me into her car when I had to go to the doctor. She encouraged me to move and bend when I was sure my body could never move again. My friend Rose came over and washed and styled my hair since I couldnt’ get into a tub or shower. Friends beyond number brought meals and snacks to the door. One friend came in and cleaned my house. Getting in a car? Cooking? Washing hair? Cleaning house? Ordinary stuff there. Ordinary women. But extraordinary to me.

That’s the glory of God. He takes those ordinary events, those common objects, those everyday people, and He makes them extraordinary. They are sacred when they are in His hands.

Father, may I never become so caught up in the trivial drivel that I lose sight of Your majesty, Your glory, Your sacredness. I ask that You continue to show me the delights and joys of the ordinary.

To God be the glory………
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