10/10/07:

"Stories of Everyday Holiness" - Julie Massey

Many years ago, when our daughter Shannon was not yet three, I sat beside her as she lay in bed halfway between sleep and waking.  Suddenly she bolted up in alert attention and declared, “I hit Alex at daycare today.” We briefly reviewed the no hitting rule, and I checked to make sure she had offered an apology. End of story. She was soon dreaming.

And I was left to wonder. Or perhaps I was filled with wonder. To think that a small child could intuitively know the value of looking back on one’s day, making a quick inventory of highs and lows. I’m convinced she was thinking something along these lines: Got dressed, kissed Mom when she dropped me off, ate three Cheerios off the floor, watched half a Barney show, almost made it to the potty on time, and – oh shoot – I forgot, “Mom, I hit Alex at daycare today.”

No one had told her told her that saintliness requires an examination of conscience. But in her child’s freedom she understood that holiness asks us to pay attention.

This morning we invite you to pay attention – to the holiness you may have missed as you moved through your yesterday.  Journey along if you wish, as we turn the clock back for a moment of contemplation.

Tuesday, October 9th

•    You awoke and began your day. Did anything ease your passage into a new day’s efforts? What nourished your body or spirit as you broke from sleep?
•    You left your res hall or your home to honor the day’s commitments. As you traveled, did you encounter anyone or anything that brought a smile?
•    You worked or studied or practiced or played. You moved about this beautiful campus. You felt the clear onset of autumn. Were the any moments in which you felt joy or contentment? Were there any experiences that moved you toward insight or wisdom?
•    As your day eased away perhaps you were able to pause – enjoying the quiet, or activity, or company that brings you life. What goodness did those moments hold for you?
•    And in the end rest came once more. A day had passed.

Your Tuesday. Tuesday, October 9th. Likely not a day destined for any history books. But nonetheless holy. 24 hours steeped in holiness, and waiting patiently for you to stop and notice.