A Case of the Ordinaries
“Do you know who I am?!” I assailed my barista friend, jokingly, once I finally reached the counter, “I’m a very important person! I am an art docent. For kindergarten and second grade.”
And I drive a Honda Civic which is almost old enough to buy alcohol, and has an air-vent fan that hollers like Chewbacca when I turn it past the first click.
I have no remarkable titles after my name.
My current scope of work: get up, feed, clean, laundry, errands, homework, feed, clean. Repeat one million times.
I’ve got a case of the ordinaries.
I don’t have any money to plan something, like a massage or a trip to Croatia, in order to push aside my overwhelming sense of mundanity. The best I could do that day was coffee, which isn’t so bad, except that right then, it felt more like an exercise in avoidance than indulgence.
I checked my texts (any amazing propositions?).
Emails? (something besides spam?)
I incline my spiritual ear, “Still no sensational calling, God?”
Oh, the burn! My increasingly less frantic life sometimes doles out such wrenching withdrawals of restlessness!
Why do I doubt lowliness—a life which money doesn’t acknowledge? (“Children of mine! Be anything but!”). Aren’t I closer to the truth as I inhabit a day of teaching, feeding, forgiving, and disciplining?
God, be enough for me in this day.
You align me squarely with you by your patience and gentleness, so subtle, that I doubt you, too.
Give me a gift of you today. Something like assuredness, or awareness, or fullness. Or perhaps a sense of your grandeur, or a surge of appreciation for this perfectly complete moment which you’ve had planned since the beginning of time.
www.IlluminateTheTruth.com 
Reminds me of one of my favorite quotes. The last paragraph of Middlemarch. “Her finely-touched spirit had still its fine issues, though they were not widely visible. Her full nature, like that river of which Cyrus broke the strength, spent itself in channels which had no great name on the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.” We all have our Dorothea moments.