The Rev. Donald A. Davidson – Anglican Priest
Anglican Church of Canada
So perhaps this Monday, as you move through the ordinary responsibilities of life, take a moment to ask:
What in my life needs watering?
What relationships need attention?What part of my soul has been running dry? Where is God quietly inviting me back into rhythms that give life rather than merely consume it?
Because grace rarely arrives only in dramatic moments. More often, it comes quietly.
We come home again.
To prayer. To friendship. To grace.
And perhaps this is one of the quiet miracles of the Church: Week after week, imperfect people gather together and somehow become a community where weary souls can rest.
So perhaps this evening, before immediately launching into the next project or worrying about the unfinished things waiting for Monday…
Pause.
Sit outside for a while. Watch the light soften toward evening. Have supper slowly. Call a friend. Pray.
And let the unfinished list remain unfinished for one blessed evening.
But the Kingdom of God seems remarkably comfortable working through small acts of generosity.
God meets us in the middle of real life.
In the half-finished prayer list. In the distracted morning prayer. In the exhausted evening sigh that barely forms words but still somehow reaches heaven.
We arrive thinking about schedules, responsibilities, conversations, and the deeply mysterious question of whether we remembered to lock the car. But servanthood gently turns our attention outward.
Laundry, after all, is an act of stewardship.
It is the quiet work of tending life.
Caring for ourselves. Caring for those we love. Preparing for another ordinary day of living.
Every step along the road. Every conversation with a stranger who somehow became a friend before the day was done. Every cool breeze arriving at precisely the right moment on a hot afternoon. Every beautiful place to stop and rest. Even every glorious café con leche along the way.
All of it became almost sacramental.
And perhaps part of our calling in Ordinary Time is to relearn how to join it.
Not by doing more.
But by paying attention.
The breeze moving through the trees. The absurd confidence of a robin defending territory vastly larger than itself. The smell of cut grass that somehow convinces us we have accomplished something important merely by smelling it.
So if today finds you looking at the spaces around you — the relationships, the interactions, the small, daily encounters that make up your life—and thinking, “This is not entirely tidy…”
Take heart.< You are in the right place. Because this is where growth happens.