Thursday, January 05, 2012
yesterday was a good day.
i woke up. scratched my head, then my leg. i stretched and stumbled to the kitchen and by pure dumb luck got the coffee started without spilling or dropping anything, or pouring the water into the toaster.
once it brewed, i sipped my coffee. i blew my nose.
i woke up my son. made his breakfast. quizzed him on his school memorization. drove him to the bus stop.
i breathed. alot.
i thought things and got dressed in things and did little things.
i went to work. checked emails. wrote emails. deleted emails. archived emails. i wrote, folded, signed, prayed, discussed, planned, organized, and reached out. i made some phone calls. i talked about the steelers game. i drank some water. and ate a small candy cane. i looked in a mirror. i listened to music.
i went home for lunch. i ate some soup. i slurped and swallowed. i wiped my face. i kept working.
i played mighty beans with my son. i complained about the cold. i changed a diaper. i read an article. i had an idea. i forgot the idea while reprimanding my kids for giving their baby brother a mighty bean. i shook my head.
i laughed. i remembered. i yawned. i ate dinner. i filled myself. i went to a meeting. i prayed. i talked. i walked home. i hit the power button. i watched. i laughed. i got sleepy. i nestled. i scratched my side. i went to bed.
yesterday was a good day.
yesterday was an ordinary day.
yesterday was the tenth day. of Christmas.
and here's the situation: did it matter? i mean, Christmas. did it matter? eleven days we not only opened presents and marvelled at missing cookies, but we also celebrated the birth of Hope and Redemption. we worshipped and sang and rejoiced and smiled and said some pretty remarkable statements about peace on earth and good will for every human being.
and then what?
back to ordinary days. back to tooth-brushing and meal-planning and child-rearing. back to scratching your head and blowing your nose. back to mondays and mighty beans and mundanity. (i know i made up a word).
so all of this ordinariness begs the question (at least for me): did Christmas matter? did it make any difference? did all that stuff i said and preached about Christmas being more than an excuse for gluttonous consumerism find it's way like a seed to soil in my own heart? did the birth of hope find its own expression in my own life, or is it relegated to some manger-like corner of my heart, packed away until next year?
yesterday was a good day. and today's looking good, too. but as i breathe and blog and get back into the routine, i must decide if Christmas made any difference for me. i must move through the mundane remembering the miracle.