I was listening to a podcast (The Habit) where the host, Jonathan Rodgers, was interviewing Tish Harrison Warren and Doug McElvey about their writing on the ordinary. We can see that word as "boring, mundane, no impact" or as "daily, particular, real." Life is so daily; life is so ordinary. Doug McElvey said that he was raised in a "tradition" that had no tradition and that emphasized doing something big and influential and dramatic on the world stage for God. He seemed to say he had a personal crisis where he realized he didn't love--God or people. And that became his goal. I like that testimony. I am facing it now a bit. "I Came to Love You Late" would be my spiritual biography's title. It's actually the title of book from the '70s about Martha. I can relate.
Whose world is this, anyway? My husband came out to the deck where I was reading, thinking, and taking long pauses to listen to birds and watch them visit the feeders. Nala and Butter were keeping the the squirrels away. The cardinals, like kings, were making sure they were fed first but wrens, sparrows, finches, robins, swifts sat in the trees calling and cackling. My Cornell Labs app has identified 18 in 18 minutes, some new ones included. “How interesting that God made all the birds have distinctive calls,” I said. “But I guess they are calling to their own kind, their mate and children.” “Do you think they are talking to each other?” he said. “Not like we do, no communicating, but signaling.” “I thought they were singing for us.” We laughed about that; our human-centric, self-centered view of things takes over. “They sing and make noises when we are not here, so it’s not for us. If they are singing for anyone, it’s God.” I had read Samuel’s speech to the nation in I Samuel 12,...
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