Ordinary Day

“After all, I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything
splendid or wonderful or exciting happens. It’s just those that bring simple little pleasures,
following one another softly like pearls slipping off a string.”
“Anne” // L.M. Montgomery // Anne of Avonlea

    These ordinary days. I don’t see them as pearls often enough, with a beauty that is worth taking notice of every waking moment.
The pizzazz days, the excitement days, the anticipated arrival days; these are the days which get me to explode out of my bed with energy the morning of. Which is funny to think about because I’m a night owl, and energized mornings are not my thing. I’m proud of my night owl-ness and love sticking by it, but curiously I’ve noticed no matter how early the next day, if it’s an exciting one, you bet your boots I’ll be there with bells on. I can be early bird, but I gulp when I realize I’m a convenient early bird.

“Today is worth getting up for.”  I excuse myself on one of these mornings.

This mentality of mine, it hit me like a brick. I view every day through this lens. This so easily is the ruler I measure the day with. A question mark waltzed it’s way into my brain at this point. . .

Isn’t every day worth getting up for, even the ordinary?  

Regardless of the “apparent” worth I label and smack on it before my feet skim the floor, is not every single day, vibrant or muted, worth it?
In my limited little clump of fluff, called my brain, I view people as an inconvenience instead of an opportunity. A busy day as just another one to get through instead of one to hug the breath out of. Wishing a normal day away just so I can get to the next most exciting one. Crossing that square off on my Rifle Paper Company calendar, without giving it a second’s reflection.

Aside from the true cliche that “Life is a gift” I need to grasp something more.

Every day doesn’t always look like a gift from the outside. It often comes in the package of driving the same trek to work for what seems like the millionth time that week, it looks like pressing or missed deadlines, scheduling conflicts, misunderstood conversations, heartfelt questions being unanswered, an ache in your beating heart to hug the neck of someone long distance. It’s unlaundered jeans and t-shirts, unswept floors, unkept landscaping (courtesy of February) that still isn’t checked off the to-do list from 2 months ago.

These are our ordinary lives. We stamp them as always run-of-the mill, unnoticeable in the grand scheme of things. Our ordinary day is subconsciously viewed like an oyster shell; sometimes displaying some beauty, most of the time nothing special.
But we are missing something amazing by flipping on this auto pilot switch. We aren’t willing to search for the hidden rarity in the ordinary.

The pearl in the oyster.

The special minute in the ordinary day. The exciting discovery after willingly clasping the humdrum.

    So, can we view our ordinary oyster shell lives still as a gift? A surprise of a day hidden inside life’s sometimes crusty outside?

Worth wanting to get up for, not snoozing our alarm clocks for.