one year later

This is the gift

of ordinary things—

they hold us,

secure us,

like tiny anchors in the wall

demanding our presence

our attention

our gratitude

while the news runs wild

and the world groans,

but we still have to make dinner

and scrub the pans

and sweep cheerios off the floor.

What a relief

only God knows

what tomorrow will bring.

So lift your gaze up, 
from this page, this screen, 
this same monotonous day
you’ve lived over and over
for an entire year.

Reflect if you wish.
Take a nap if you don’t.

And then,
let yourself be enchanted
by ordinary things again, 
swim in the delight of it all
every gift of grace
as a small act of war—
the birds singing over your head, 
the first sip of morning coffee, 
the scent of your baby’s neck.

And thank the Lord almighty: you survived.

(Ashlee Gadd, Ordinary Things)