Laundry. Dishes. School work.
Today it's all mundane.
My Man calls to check in on us. I have nothing to report... "Just the usual."
He calls again a little later. He's at the hospital with a man whose daughter's young life hangs by a thread.
Please pray, he begs.
In the middle of the mundane, the children and I stop and pray.
The mundane rolls on as the day presses. Lunch. Clean up. Stories. Naps. Just like all the other days.
He calls again, this time his voice hallow and with dread he tells me that a dear friend's father was killed in a tragic car crash. I sit because I can not stand through that news.
Please pray, he insists for the second time today.
I try to recover enough to get dinner into mouths. The mundane returns. Dinner. Dishes.... more of the same.
I walk out onto the porch, past the horses and marvel at the remarkable sunset in action. The same sky that is floating over our mundane is also hanging above dear ones who are in pain. I find it hard to comprehend how both can exist so closely.
My heart tosses it all around and then sends thanks to the Father for the mundane for the mundane is truly a gift.
