What if the ordinary moments of our lives aren’t interruptions between the extraordinary ones, but the very places where life is happening?
We spend a remarkable amount of our lives looking forward to something.
The next vacation. The next celebration. The next meaningful encounter. The next moment of wonder when something catches our breath and reminds us how beautiful life can be.
And those moments are wonderful. I treasure them.
But what about all the moments in between?
What about the ordinary?
Finding a Rhythm in Portugal
I recently returned from a vacation in Portugal. We visited several cities, experienced different customs, navigated another language, enjoyed unfamiliar foods, and encountered places we had never been before.
There was certainly plenty of wonder.
But something interesting happened after the first few days. We began to settle into the ordinary rhythms of the places where we were staying.
We would walk to a café, order a cappuccino or latte, and simply sit.
Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we watched people walking past. Sometimes we just enjoyed being there, sharing a little piece of the everyday life unfolding around us.
In Coimbra, we found a café where we could enjoy gluten-free pastries. We returned more than once, becoming familiar with the walk, the surroundings, and the simple pleasure of beginning the day together.
There was nothing particularly extraordinary about any of it.
And perhaps that was what made it so meaningful.
We weren’t trying to make something happen. We weren’t rushing to see the next attraction or fill every available moment with activity.
We were simply there.
We were inhabiting the ordinary.
The Life That Happens Between the Highlights
We live in a world that encourages us to seek extraordinary experiences.
There is always something more to see, something more to accomplish, something more exciting just around the corner.
Even in our spiritual lives, we can become attached to those remarkable moments of insight, wonder, or transcendence.
We want the mountaintop experiences.
But most of life doesn’t happen on mountaintops.
Most of life happens while we’re making breakfast, answering an email, walking down the street, talking with a neighbor, or sitting quietly at the end of the day.
It happens in the conversations we barely remember and the tasks we perform almost automatically.
And I wonder whether, in our eagerness to experience something extraordinary, we sometimes overlook the very life we’re living.
Because the ordinary isn’t empty. It isn’t pointless. It isn’t something we must get through to reach the moments that matter.
The ordinary is where we are.
And being fully where we are is a remarkable gift.
Broccoli, Computer Updates, and Being Alive
Before recording this week’s podcast, I sat down to eat some lunch.
I had broccoli.
And it was broccoli.
I ate it, enjoyed it, drank some water, and was present in that perfectly ordinary moment.
Later, I sat down at my computer and began updating the Linux operating system I use for my podcast work. It’s something I do regularly. Nothing exciting or particularly noteworthy.
But it matters. It’s part of the life I live.
And I get to be here for it.
Not every moment needs to become a profound spiritual experience. Not every bite of food needs to inspire poetry. Not every ordinary task needs to reveal some hidden lesson.
Sometimes we can simply inhabit what we’re doing.
We can be present.
We can recognize that we’re alive, participating in this magnificent, interconnected universe, even when nothing particularly remarkable seems to be happening.
Perhaps especially then.
Bringing the Ordinary Home
One of the unexpected gifts of our time in Portugal was how it changed my appreciation for the everyday life I returned to.
Walking around the neighborhood.
Heading down to my office.
Having a brief conversation with a child on the playground behind the church.
Sitting quietly.
Sharing a meal.
These moments are no less worthy of my presence than those spent exploring a beautiful city in another country.
They are not lesser moments of life.
They are life.
And perhaps that is one of the deeper invitations of this ongoing exploration of inhabiting: learning that we don’t have to be somewhere else, doing something else, or becoming someone else to participate fully in the gift of being alive.
We can belong right where we are.
An Invitation to Inhabit Your Ordinary
So here’s an invitation for this week.
Notice an ordinary moment.
Not necessarily a beautiful moment, an exciting moment, or one that seems particularly meaningful.
Just an ordinary one.
Perhaps it’s your morning coffee. The walk to your car. Washing a dish. Sitting down in your favorite chair. A conversation you’ve had dozens of times before.
You don’t have to change anything about it.
You don’t have to make it extraordinary.
Simply be there.
Recognize that this moment, too, is part of the life you have been given to inhabit.
Because we don’t have to rush through the ordinary to reach something more important.
Every ordinary moment is worth inhabiting because we are alive in it.
And remember, even in the ordinary moments—perhaps especially in the ordinary moments—
You are infinitely precious and unconditionally loved for the gift you already are.
Just showing up in your own life is a precious gift, both to yourself and to the rest of us.
Thank you for being you.
Listen to the Episode
Reflection question: What ordinary moment in your life might be inviting you to become more fully present?
