My life is mundane.
Don't get me wrong,
there are peak experiences like weddings, and a perfect bowl of ice cream. But the majority of each day is a string of routines that bounce me around like a poorly played game of billiards. Wake up Ben, jostle him into the shower, hustle him to the bus, iron the twins' clothes, listen to their anticipation of the day, scramble fresh eggs.... You get the idea.
But who ever promised me sustained excitement? Well if it comes to that, every second facebook post and commercial is suggestive of unabated joy. There is a billboard on I-95 that makes going to the doctor sound like the zenith of human existence. I suddenly wish I needed surgery.
Marriage is ordinary, in an extraordinary way. After all fifty per cent of the equation involves me, a decidedly flawed individual. Right now my bathroom sink is atrocious, and there is laundry waiting to be tucked in a drawer. Hardly the stuff of celebration.
But then I wonder if it is less about the inadequacy of my marriage to saturate me with happiness, and more about my willingness to receive it. Last night John brought me a plate of my favorite beans/rice/cheese atop triple washed lettuce that was in the ground an hour ago. How can that not be precious?
Jesus doesn't lose any sleep that we will forget that the Eucharist is sacred. He is anxious that
we might forget that it's ordinary, that it's a meal shared among friends. And that's the incarnation. ~Father Greg Boyle
