Finding Grace in the Ordinary Moments

 Today was one of those rare, slow afternoons... the kind where time seems to stretch out like a cat dozing in the sun. My grandkids were over, running around the backyard like wild things... barefoot and sticky from melting ice cream cones.

We spent the afternoon with water fights and dandelion crowns. It was messy and loud and perfect in the way only childhood can be. And somewhere between their shrieks of laughter and their demands for more snacks, I realized how easily I forget to slow down and just be here.

Life feels complicated most days. Grief, doubt, the world always in turmoil... and sometimes, my own faith feels like a tattered thread. But there’s something about these simple, ordinary moments that feels holy. Maybe it’s the way their laughter cuts through all the heaviness. Maybe it’s the way love looks so easy when you’re six years old and running barefoot through the grass.

I’ve been thinking about grace... how I keep trying to find it in big answers and grand gestures. But maybe it’s been right here all along... in sticky fingers, tangled hair, and the cool rush of the hose spraying water into the air.

I don’t write enough about these kinds of days. It’s easier to write when I’m wrestling with something hard. But I think maybe the quiet joy matters just as much. Maybe more.

I remember writing about the Boston Marathon bombing last year... how darkness can feel overwhelming. And today... today feels like a little bit of light breaking through.

No prayer today... just a deep breath and a quiet thank you. For laughter, for love, for the simple grace of an ordinary day.