Some small things

It's been a while!

I really hate starting with that–and I hate having started with that so often in the history of this blog.

I just…haven't felt like I've had much to write about. Part of that was taking on a new job at the beginning of last month, which put me at just about full-time between all of my jobs. What a transition! It hasn't been bad, really. It's been tough, sure, and an adjustment, but I really love it. It's a good job. But between the new job and my other jobs, there have been lots of little good moments (and lots of irritating, frustrating ones, too!) but nothing big enough that I wanted to write a whole post about it.

But good grief it's been a long time since I wrote anything here.

And I think those little moments are worth celebrating and cherishing–and isn't that what I wanted to do here, in this space? find the good and beautiful and God in the routines and small moments of life? So let's take a moment–let's celebrate all the tiny things that being us joy. For me, that's been:

  • Walking to work. It's a tiny way to make space for myself, and I love it.
  • My new friend.
  • Going to the park. I live right by one, and I've finally rediscovered that is a great place to go to read or get some work done.
  • Beautiful sunsets. Enough said, right?
  • Work. Definitely not every day–but there's something beautiful about seeing a task be completed, and being the one working towards that. There's something wonderful about having a clearly defined goal.
  • Crocheting. I've been crocheting more lately and loving it! I find it such a soothing way to spend an hour or two.
  • Writing. Surprising no one but myself, developing a regular writing habit has been giving me so, so much joy. (Perhaps this is a post for another time, but why do we so vehemently avoid the parts of life that give us the most joy?)
  • Rain. We've had so much rain here I've the past month, and I love it. It's my favorite weather, full of such beauty and potential.

What about you? What small things have you been loving?

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Laundry and Brainstorming

The stories we tell are a window into our souls.

The stories I choose to tell reveal what I believe, what I hold dear, and what I find important. 

And I keep trying to tell stories of everyday life. All of my sermons over the past two months have ended with a celebration of the work of faith in the midst of dishes and traffic jams and people that annoy us. I’ve been drawn to the books that lay out the details of life, what the character had for breakfast and every step of solving the mystery or completing the quest. My favorite blog posts have been about repaying loans and creating habits and the still small work of change. 

I’ve been struggling to find that in my own life. Dishes have been piling up, right next to the piles of books and papers and craft supplies that I don’t feel like organizing right now. Being on time has been a constant struggle, along with finishing tasks more than two seconds before they’re due. Writing feels like a monumentally difficult task, just like praying and reading the Bible feel unimportant. The small stuff feels unimportant, and the big stuff feels impossible. 

I miss the rhythm of working and living well, of taking care of dishes and emails and work to do lists. I miss finding the beauty in habits and repetition, finding the space to think and pray in doing something worth doing. I miss knowing I’d done good things with my day. I miss feeling the freedom to stop at look at the flowers, to take ten minutes and read a chapter of a new book or jot down a story idea. 


I’m trying to rediscover the beauty in the everyday, in folding laundry and praying every morning and submitting poetry, in taking the time to walk to the store and answering the phone and ending the day with journaling. I’m trying to rediscover the beauty of routine and needed tasks, of to do lists and goals, without allowing any of them to become strait jackets. I’m trying to rediscover the beauty in duties and necessities.


That’s what I want to write about. Writing is a part of that; writing forces me to slow down, to listen to myself and others. But there are so many other parts: praying and reading, attention and self-care, grace and reminders. That’s what I want to write about, all of that. That’s why I changed the blog title to Ordinary Adventures. I want to rediscover the new and exciting in my ordinary days, amidst routine and duty and repetition. I want to discover God working in the ordinary.

It won’t always feel like an adventure, but it will be a glorious story.

Rag Rug

Rag Rug 1

This is the rag rug I’ve been working on for more than a year now. Overwhelming, isn’t it? What I’ve done so far feels tiny and insignificant, and I feel so far away from the completion that it feels impossible.

I’ve been working on it in little bits: choosing cloth to cut up (old clothes that were far too ragged to give away for re-use), cutting it into painstaking strips, and finally, one by one, threading the strips into the holes. In a fit of excitement at my awesome project, I cut up the black shirts and made the border all in one day. “Oh, this wasn’t so bad!”

Every tutorial I looked at warned me that this was a long process, that the rug is created SLOWLY. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

My strips of cloth, waiting to be threaded into the rug.
My strips of cloth, waiting to be threaded into the rug.

Trying to build a writing career feels overwhelming. Heck, going on with my day feels overwhelming sometimes. Getting the dishes done feels overwhelming, leaving homework and relationships completely out of it! And all I can do is focus on the small things, one thing at a time, one moment at a time. That doesn’t mean I can’t or shouldn’t plan for the future, because I absolutely should. I must. Otherwise my focus is always just in the present, doing whatever presents itself. But I can’t focus on the entirety of what needs to be done. It’s huge and overwhelming, and that makes me freeze up, worry so much that I can’t get anything done. Instead, I have to look at what’s right in front of me, decide what my next task is going to be and focus on that. Just as with my rag rug, I can’t try to put ten strips in ten different holes at once. Instead, I have to go one at a time. Each one feels insignificant, just as each task sometimes feels insignificant. But, if chosen wisely, each task builds on the others, until eventually something beautiful has been created.