Ordinary haunts me like a mantra of insufficiency. I see the flashes of beauty all around me, every person one more facet in the image of an infinite God. Who sees that in me…
And so I run from one accomplishment to the next, each challenge bigger than before, panting, pushing, pleading that THIS time, this moment, this affirmation will be enough.
To convince me that I too carry a sparkle of divinity that reflects and amplifies One bigger than myself.
Yes, I do know how that sounds. I cringe at the outloud-ness of my insecurities writ large on the pages of my internet’s soul. I have found affirmation insignificant weapons when thrown at the barricade of my own self-hatred. My own critical sharpness inflicting wound after wound.
Ordinary…. Paul, the Apostle, speaks of pots intended for ordinary use. They are for the rough, clay, day to day use. Overlooked. Misused. Cracked. Missing pieces.
But the extraordinary doesn’t carry us through the days between mountaintops. It is the ordinary cup from which we drink. It is the ordinary life where the muscle, stamina, and inspiration are found for the routine step of one foot in front of the other until that moment when we are face to face with God….
Being ordinary is enough. Really, it’s all we have.