Monday Monday

I listened to a podcast the other day, where a man who had lost two of his three sons talked about the blessings of boring, ordinary days. How one of his friends had said "If I knew I only had twelve more months with my child, I'd stop working and spend every waking moment at her side." And this man in the podcast explained how he and his wife had felt differently, how the normal and the mundane helped them through the darkest hours, days and years. How going to work, making lunch, taking the bus, tucking the boys in at night, helped them and gave them a little rest in between the pain, the frustration and the paralyzing grief. The blessings of ordinary days.

And sometimes when we end up in the kitchen, all of us doing our different things but sitting there together, doing them side by side, sometimes when I look beyond the piles of laundry and the homework and the early mornings and the painful nights when there's no chocolate left, not even in the secret stash, then sometimes I catch a glimpse of it and it's the strongest and prettiest thing I've seen. The blessings of our ordinary days. You say boring? I say bring it.