I should be noticing holy type stuff, because it’s Sunday and all.

I go to church, and it is good. We are late because church is early because of a meeting and it being muffin Sunday, but we are late because there are issues with the goats. And Lyndon is aching with tendonitis and he needs the boys to help him out there, dealing with the goat issues, and so we’re late for the meeting and we have completely missed the muffin and visiting time.

We straggle in, just in time to vote “yes” to the hiring of a part-time interim preacher, and after the all in favour and the obligatory closing prayer, the boys dive into the muffin tray and I join the women at a table to discuss what will we do for ladies class this fall? I like the decision we agree on. We agree to study Jesus, and talk about Him. My kind of bible study.

I’m off to the basement now, to set up my Sunday School classroom, and then upstairs again to sit with my family and some cool teenager friends of theirs and we sing and pray and share bread and wine. The collection basket is being passed and Carter hands it to me, stretching around his dad who doesn’t want to take the basket because, remember, tendonitis, and we drop it. Coins and bills and cheques everywhere and we giggle and gather and pass it on.

Sunday School time and that is fun. The kids are great and we sing the books of the New Testament because we are trying to learn them, and the shy boy answers a question and so does his shy sister, and I feel like that is a victory. We hear them singing the closing hymn upstairs but we are in the middle of a silly game, so we stay and finish and, whew, back upstairs to collect family and say a few hellos and then I’m home again, lunch on the go.

Moose and elk sausage, perogies, baked beans. A fall meal if ever there was one, and we gobble it up, and tidy it up, and oh my goodness, it’s been a busy day already.

I sit down to write these words, and the holy of the day is beyond me. No great study of scripture or meditation comes to mind. There was hardly time to slow, let alone pray, and yet …

Yet, I think, there was holy in there, too. Yes, there was. Not the holy of great ceremony. The holy, instead, of small ordinary. The holy of giving thanks for pancakes, and hugging an away boy who made it home for the day, and preparing food, and teaching babies, and massaging a husband’s sore arm.

These small holies, these are what I’m noticing today.


Day 6 of 31 Days of Noticing Stuff. To see all the posts in this series, click the link at the top of the page.