The repetition of the beautiful can feel more like repetition of the ordinary.
The let dog in let dog out days of in and out of the washer and dryer she adds a load, changes it out, and tries to mix it up.
She sees the ordinary but strains for the extraordinary of the cycles of life. The make the bed and wash a load and empty, re- load the machines that wash the things that are dirty hums its dull hum.
And the check the mail and fluff the pillows and call a friend and go to the store and wipe the counters again drills go on and on and on.
But what if she sees a nuance of change and a strain of the beautiful in the repetition of the everyday.
And what if she began to lace the duties of life and living with prayer and praise and songs.
Taking the sheets of music to the bed as she folds the sheets. And raises the window to hear the birds as they serenade the cycles of living. The daily fringed with songs of grace.
And what if the breathing of the home she holds dear begins to sound like the breathing of the family that will walk in soon in need of nurture, both of the soul and of the body.
So the wiping of the counters begins to look like a prelude to an act of love, of service.
And the mundane looks like a view through a kaleidoscope when she shifts the view, turns it slant to see, really see what’s hidden behind the veil of the daily.
And “viewing life through a lense of grace” breaks out anew from its cocoon of hiding and is reborn.
She sees the grace of life. She sees the joy in wash, rinse, repeat.
She reframes her ordinary with extravagant love and wipes the counter with a cloth of dripping wet grace, in the living, grace in the everyday.
And He does make all things new. In the moments of the everyday everyday.
So she turns it on its head until the blood rushes in and shakes and spins it round and round. And when the day gets turned right side up it’s flush with living, flush with the flow of blood all through the living breathing it.
The life has rushed back in and the life flows strong and bold through the day.
The turning, flipping bring shades of new, shades of the life-blood show, shining through. And it blushes with crimson, tinges of life-red.
The stale looks fresh, the old looks re-born and the mundane places are fired-up with the electric new.
She views life through a lense of grace.
And all the things on life’s pendulum, swing to the beat of a recalibrated heart.
And life fills her home again. And the beat goes on and on and on.
Dancing to the songs of grace.