There have been big days where I knew that God was working in a moment–doing something magnificent and life changing: my baptism, our wedding day, the day the ultrasound tech turned to me and said, “Do you see that? There are two heads here…”
But there have been other moments when I was suddenly awe-struck with wonder in the most ordinary of days. There have been moments when I could have slipped out of my dirty flip-flops, because I suddenly realized I was standing on holy ground.
Walking out of my door in the morning, I see morning glories strung carefree and delicate, spilling over the edge of our garden. I pause on a walk in the woods to breathe in the scent of fallen leaves, tracing with my eyes the reds and golds highlighting the trees. I watch my husband tussling on the couch with my babies while I do the dishes, and suddenly realize how very blessed I am. When I bring home bags full of groceries for our family–bananas and cheerios and spinach and black beans–and drop them inside the door where my babies rummage through them and beg for all their favorite foods, it dawns on me how remarkable a thing it is that God loves us and provides for us so abundantly.
Isn’t every moment laced with His presence and work, with His holiness?
There was a time when the children of Israel worshipped in a tabernacle, where God’s presence veiled itself in the Holiest of Holies. But when Jesus died, the veil was torn in two, and suddenly every moment and place where His children dwelled became a place of potential worship.
Jesus lived in our flesh and walked in the dust that coats our flip-flops, and now the kitchen, the forest, and my backyard have become cathedrals for the Deity in our hearts, inside the places where He now chooses to dwell.
Sitting on my kitchen floor once this week, bare feet crossed under me, I watched one of my little ones concentrate on delicately hanging little plastic monkeys in a string. And I wondered and marveled at a God Who creates babies who go from so little and helpless to learning and growing so much in such a short time. I couldn’t take off my shoes, because they were already off, but still I worshipped in spirit and in truth.
To quote one of our favorite story books: “Isn’t it a wonder that a little baby that couldn’t walk or talk or feed itself should grow up to be you!” (from “Wonders of Nature” by Jane Werner Watson)
