Yesterday was an ordinary Monday. We got up a little late (we retired folks seem to have a hard time getting up early and might be a little resentful if we have an early appointment that requires rising before 8:00 a.m.). I stripped the sheets off the bed, and we got ready to face the day.
Monday is grocery shopping day. I think I may have mentioned a time or two that grocery shopping is not my favorite chore. But I digress. The thing that makes it bearable is Abel's - the teeny, tiny restaurant with the water stains on the ceiling and worn linoleum. It is also the one with delicious home-cooked meals. If you're not an early riser, it's a given you'll have to wait for a table - bunched into a little group of other lazy (I mean more relaxed) people in the little space by the door. It's always worth the wait.
Fortified, we proceeded to the grocery store. When we returned home, we unloaded the groceries and went for a walk. It was a beautiful spring-like day. Not a cloud in the sky. Our little llama friend Julie watched as we passed her little piece of land. I often wonder what's going on behind those big, long-lashed eyes. She, in turn, may wonder why two perfectly normal looking people walk past her four times - never really getting anywhere.
I called my Mom while I walked, and we chatted. These are moments I cherish, knowing the immeasurable blessing of still having my parents with us.
After lunch it was laundry, ironing and fresh sheets on the bed. I know I'm a bit odd, but there is something so sweet about clean clothes, pressing out wrinkles and knowing we'll be pulling crisp, fresh-smelling sheets up to our chins at bedtime.
Our evenings are usually quiet affairs. We turned the television on, and I picked up the baby sweater I'm knitting for a dear young friend. I find it hard to sit without something in my hands. A few chapters in "Persuasion" (I dearly love spending time with Jane Austen even though we've had the same "conversations" many times in the past) and time for bed.
An ordinary day, filled with ordinary moments. There are times when I feel a sense of not doing enough for Him . My Monday certainly didn't change the world in the slightest, but I am trying to stop keeping a list of the "doing." Instead, I gave Him the day in the morning, and know He walked with me - helping me with those things that "so easily beset," and orchestrating my day according to His plan. Could it be that smiles, clean laundry, a telephone call or simple chores were pleasing in His sight?