It presses in hard. This living. Its list of to-do longer than done. Its piles and stacks and heaps. Its needs and spills and tears. Piled laundry. Stacked dishes. Spilled milk; tears. The daily doing it all over. One more time. To get to the end of the day and a bowl of ice cream. From where I sit, longing to snatch a few moments of calm, I hear the tears of the littlest boy, locked out by the brothers. See laundry, once clean, knocked over and trampled on the floor; spilled cereal in hardened milk rings on the table.
And all I want—all I need, is a few minutes of quiet. Solitude. A chance to sit with the Maker and draw life. Breath. And this time, it falls short. Needing a deeper breath, a longer drink. To find the water in the living. The breath in the doing. Turn the to-do into to-be. To look and find the Holy in the common. The Sacred in the mundane. Because it’s there. It must be. Buechner writes, “Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.” (Frederick Buechner, Now and Then) Holy hidden in ordinary. Jesus in the laundry basket. All moments sacred. Praise in the piles. And the tears of that littlest boy birth a prayer. And somehow, in all the living, that Water keeps flowing and that Life keeps breathing. And it’s enough.
© stephanie pepper, 2012