Longing for normal

Most days could be filed under ordinary.  It’s not until our life’s upset that we recall the comfort of an everyday routine.  At least five of my friends were recently in a bad way, dealing with lingering pains of all kinds.  Without warning, their worlds had been shaken.  My heart broke for them.  It’s such a helpless feeling to see people you care about struggling.  I longed to clean their bathrooms, to contribute to the pile of food on their counters, to load their dishwashers, and to follow up with love notes.  But I’m not convinced they needed any of that more than they just needed energy to join their families around the dinner table, a quiet night at home doing homework, a normal weekend of chores and hanging out with friends.  When I was recovering from a c-section and trying to take care of four little kids, as well as the new baby, I longed to make it up and down the stairs with the laundry and not ache.  After a week on the couch with the flu, I just wanted to be able to make the dinner and mop the floor.  But do we—or can we—ever really appreciate what we have when there’s no imminent threat?

Todd was pretty taken aback about his near-miss on the 60 mph country road home one night, but I was busy finishing up dinner and, although I was momentarily relieved he’d made it home after such a close call, it was quickly dismissed, we needed to eat.  Andrew told me of his recent slide down the mountain and how close he came to major catastrophe.  A year or two ago Bronwyn choked on a mandarin orange while we were eating dinner and I became slightly panicked as I heard her strange noises and felt her flop listlessly into my arms.  It took me a good while to reconcile that the Heimlich maneuver had worked and that she was ok.  I still recall how close we came.  I remember Avery and Callum nearly drowning a couple of years back; Avery’s lips were blue when we finally noticed her holding Callum in the deep water.  I didn’t realize how serious it could’ve been.  A family’s stability can change in a moment, and we really have no idea how often we’ve avoided devastation by a hair.

A life-threatening infection or accident or injury or misstep or diagnosis can change our whole life in seconds.  But what about when it hasn’t?  What about all the days we enjoy without pain?  What do we think about the mornings we made it through the night with no incident?  Everyone’s eating breakfast and engaging in the morning routine getting ready for work and school and the day’s activities.  Do we pause?  And when we were fortunate enough to never get a phone call from the school saying there’s been a shooting or from a local policeman saying your spouse’s been in a serious accident?  Do we greet each other when we’re together again as if we’re truly blessed to be reunited?  Is there a way to live in this frame of mind?  Or do we have to live through a nightmare to be grateful for peace?

I believe that if we become a tad more cognizant, we can heighten our appreciation for the veiled miracle of another regular day even as we are living the normal days. At the same time, I’m not simple-minded enough to believe one who has never lived through devastation can value normalcy to the same degree as someone who has, but we can all take our common days a little less for granted.  But I wonder if you’ve had experiences that have changed how you view an ordinary day.

I wonder what it would be like to have our eyes opened, to be able to witness all the close calls, the near misses, the times we and our families were protected and guided and watched over.  Although I’ve prayed for that insight, I’m just an ordinary girl and don’t seem to be privy to that kind of vision.  And yet I know we are watched over.  I feel it.  And maybe that’s what stirs me to want to show gratitude for another typical morning eating Grape Nuts and toast with jam, perusing the paper and reading scriptures with Todd and the kids.  For another beautiful drive into town to get groceries and visit with a friend.  For a blanket of snow that gives us an excuse to button up and move our muscles as we shovel for maybe the fifth time that week.  For a home where friends can come and eat and play and just be part of the family for awhile.  For an evening home where we linger over spaghetti and catch up on the day.  For yard work and housework and the comings and goings of a regular, everyday day.  We are so blessed to have so many average days.  Rather than waiting until the flu knocks me down or someone falls off the tramp or we get hit with cancer, I’ll dream of an ordinary day today.  And yet I’m already living the dream.