Today was a pretty quiet, ordinary day. In the middle of Ordinary Time. Back in 2008 I wrote this one…


Ordinary Time

When life plods along with aching knees, hunched back and drooping head,

when I forget to look at the scenery

and concentrate, pebble by pebble,

on the ground beneath my feet –

changing at a painfully slow pace.

When life’s data gets so boring that I no longer care,

when, day in, day out,

each day seems to come straight from the photocopier,

I feel that not even one word is new

and happy pages look just like the rest.

When meaning fails to greet me in the morning,

when purpose and passion go on holiday

and confusion sits around the table

with the Absence

of meaning, purpose and passion

and, together, we make a dull party.

When in these times

I am recoiling from the shouts of Ordinary,

I faintly hear a whisper in my ear:

“Be still and know that I am God.”

And this whisper grows louder

and louder

and louder

until I can not distinguish the shouts from those of Ordinary.

And I know

that they are one.

The confidence of the Ordinary is the confidence of God.

And if I listen well

I hear

God transforming the Ordinary

to the Extra-ordinary.

The rowdy shouts are becoming a triumphant song.

It sings of God’s presence

and nothing around me changes

except my perspective of it.

When life plods along,

God gives me thanks

that I don’t have to run,

or stop, uncertain,

but as I plod,

I can look up and enjoy the view.

When life’s data all looks the same,

God gives me thanks

that my pages aren’t black with crisis

or blank with amnesia,

but that I can enjoy

these words of calm.

When meaning, purpose and passion have gone,

God gives me thanks

that I can welcome the humility and childlikeness

of confusion

so that, once again,

I can run with open arms and mind

to God

who simply wants me to recognise

God’s presence

in this song of Ordinary

and to join in

through this magical time

to sing together.