Rain hit the window as I tried to focus on my to-do list. The sound wasn't new - I'd heard it a thousand times without really paying attention. But for some reason, it cut through this time. It pulled me away from tomorrow's worries and dropped me right into now. The steady sound against glass. The gray light. The unexpected stillness. It was a moment asking to be noticed.
Psalm 118:24 says, "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." Not just the big days marked on calendars. Not just the celebrations and milestones. This day. Today. The one with dirty dishes and work deadlines and school carpools.
I've spent too much time waiting for joy to arrive with achievement. Like it would show up when I finally accomplished something worth mentioning. As if joy were reserved for mountain-top moments rather than mundane Mondays.
What if we've been looking in the wrong places? What if joy isn't waiting somewhere in the future but hiding in plain sight - in morning coffee steam, in the familiar voice on the other end of the phone?
The teacher in Ecclesiastes tells us, "God has made everything beautiful in its time." Maybe the ordinariness of life isn't something to push through on the way to something better. Maybe it's exactly where God meets us most consistently.
I'm learning to pay attention differently. To catch the small moments of goodness that fill normal days - the perfect song playing at just the right moment; laughter shared across a table.
When Jesus fed thousands with just a few loaves and fish, He started with what was available. Something ordinary became extraordinary not because it changed, but because it was placed in His hands.
Our ordinary moments work the same way. The everyday parts of our lives - when recognized as gifts and offered back to God - become something more. Not because the moments themselves are remarkable, but because we finally see them for what they are.
What ordinary blessing might you be overlooking today? What simple gift has become invisible through familiarity?
Joy isn't found by escaping the ordinary. It's discovered when we unwrap the simple gifts each day holds - when we stop rushing to what's next and receive what already is.