Tonight, I ran across this reading entitled, “The Life of a Day” written by Tom Hennen …
Like people or dogs, each day is unique and has its own personality quirks which can easily be seen if you look closely. But there are so few days as compared to people, not to mention dogs, that it would be surprising if a day were not a hundred times more interesting than most people. But usually they just pass, mostly unnoticed, unless they are wildly nice, like autumn ones full of red maple trees and hazy sunlight, or if they are grimly awful ones in a winter blizzard that kills the lost traveler and bunches of cattle. For some reason we like to see days pass, even though most of us claim we don’t want to reach our last one for a long time. We examine each day before us with barely a glance and say, no, this isn’t one I’ve been looking for, and wait in a bored sort of way for the next, when we are convinced, our lives will start for real. Meanwhile, this day is going by perfectly well-adjusted, as some days are, with the right amounts of sunlight and shade, and a light breeze scented with a perfume made from the mixture of fallen apples, corn stubble, dry oak leaves, and the faint odor of last night’s meandering skunk.
… and I was reminded again … God is in the ordinary days of our lives … and unless I pay attention I am going to miss the beauty of his presence. Hennen says with “barely a glance” … waiting in “a bored sort of way”, we expect our lives will start for real on some future day.
I can’t help but wonder what opportunities I miss when I don’t take time to see with my spiritual eyes the day that God has given me. May I not set aside a day thinking of it as having no consequence. Because “all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be,” each day must have a significance of its own. Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to thee. Take my moments and my days; let them flow in endless praise, let them flow in endless praise.
Grant that we may hear your words, spoken in each thing of everyday affairs;
Coffee, on our table in the morning;
the simple gesture of opening a door to go out, free;
the shouts of children in the parks;
a familiar song, sung by an unfamiliar face;
a friendly tree that has not yet been cut down. ~R. Alves