Just Another Mundane Monday
Today is officially the last day of August. Over the first half or one-third of my life, in hopes that I live into my 80’s or 90’s, this time of year has been filled with anticipation and lots of back-to-school preparations, first as a student and then an educator. Having just a few years ago left behind the noise, relentless hustle, and complications that school buildings contain, following God to life’s next chapter, it is odd being a bystander watching former colleagues and so many people nationwide try to work out what form schooling can or should take in this harsh COVID-19 era. Largely, marathon shopping trips back-and-forth, because you always forget something, to stockpile school supplies are no more. Receiving loads of clearance notices from retails, some who are teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, feels disjointed. A quick glance in my closet reveals various shoes and accessories that has gone totally untouched for almost six months. Stylish tunics and denim jeans have been replaced by a few essential athleisure items and strictly gym garb that rotates as needed. There hasn’t been even much of a remote need to buy clothes in what feels like an eternity. Our grocery bill has steadily increased, however, I have noticed.
Routines that not long ago were so ordinary, we thought, have been suspended while uncertainty mushrooms and fear intensifies across all the news feeds, or so it seems. God has afforded me to spend extended time during this season of social distancing mediating on how much my life has changed not only in recent months, but over the years. Thankfully, I began to value Courtney Carver’s perspective shared in her book, Soulful Simplicity: How Living with Less Can Lead to So Much More, not during the pandemic, but some years ago. It was a burnt-out workaholic whose well-intentioned plans of fighting for healthier work-life balance were usually sabotaged before 8:00am each day. Always juggling imminent deliverables, I was trapped in a frantic cycle that went pretty non-stop from early morning to late evening. I was waist-deep in a self-induced dysfunctional grind of over functioning, which meant prioritizing work over my marriage, overall physical and emotional health, and spiritual development.
Because of this I have compassion for those struggling to find fulfillment amid this unforeseen time-out that such a devastating virus has offered, which at least is partly an opportunity to break free from being ruled by busyness. If you are accustomed to acting like you run things, COVID-19 and even other personal and collective disruptions have ways of firmly communicating your fragility, that you’re less powerful than arrogance leads you to think. But I get it—there’s a degree of dissonance or disorientation that you have to face in order to find a way forward that is true and positive. My commitment to now embracing “less” or “more” (it all depends what value you place on each term, etc.), isn’t the result of an extreme overnight makeover. Rather, it typifies a classic case-study in Prochaska & DiClemente’s “Stages of Change” model. I experienced many incremental progress and regress during the contemplation stage before finally beginning to take substantial action toward a simpler life full of depth and quality. Even now, too many consecutive days of a lackluster routine, reminiscent of scenes from the 1993 movie Groundhog Day, can lead to me wrestling with restlessness and generally feeling out of sorts. Nevertheless, I am grateful for the process, and am delighting in how the definition of mundane has taken on new meaning and offered me new, mature perspective.
In no way is something being mundane synonymous with it being meaningless. If we care to slow-down enough and pay attention, it is easy to see that life is filled with endlessly more ordinary days than extraordinary moments. And there is nothing wrong with that. In following the chronology, even Jesus’ life was steeped in repetitive, seemingly unexciting routines. After a gloriously miraculous entry into the world, in his first 30 years he lived like an everyday, nondescript son, brother, friend, and carpenter, no different than any other Jewish man of his time. Even when his public ministry began of teaching, preaching, and ministering to people, his core crew of followers were composed of regular guys. They walked a lot. If they were not on a boat sailing across some sea, they were walking. They ate together, joked around together, and bickered sometimes. And just like anyone else looking for daily guidance from God, Jesus prayed, as Mark 1:35 describes: “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.” Jesus was all about interacting with people as they went about their usual business.
Celebration of the mundane requires creating rules of life that turn daily deposits into tangible practices essential to developing true emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual health. Being rightly devoted to the little things adds up, and when braided together can help us achieve goals that honor God. Although writing has never felt like my cup-of-tea, I realize that since probably second or third grade I have regularly jotted about my life in various colorful journals, and now that practice has extended into blogging. Only God knows what’s next. There needs to be recognition of Christianity as a lifelong witness and legacy of steadfast, self-controlled stewardship of mostly normal, less insignificant moments. Humility should characterize us. Contentment with quaint date nights at home with your spouse, faithfully parenting kids through the terrible twos and teenage years, checking-in on aging parents and friends, and stocking up over and over again on groceries at Costco—this is real life.
Especially during these socially distant days, God has been helping me appreciate the remarkable repetitive nature of common activities. I find solace in small comforts, such as eating a morning bowl of oatmeal that fuels my body with goodness. Whether odd, just old, or both, I eat oatmeal basically every morning. It is a small reminder that simplicity can be fulfilling. And, of course, there are oodles of combinations that can be made, from savory to sweet, peanut butter and swirls of chocolate, berries, nuts, you name it. We should guard ourselves from escapism, chasing after a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious kind of alternative universe that pretends weariness is a figment of our imagination. The truth is that I should be more attentive to the blessings inherent in reoccurring interactions. I want to get out of the way and let the light of Christ shine through me, illuminating grace and holiness. All the while, I look forward to the Holy Spirit continuing to tutor me, whereby I might encounter both internal and external revival. On the journey, I can’t afford to miss out on the beauty of everyday life found in plain sight. I just need to pay attention.