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Some days, all I want is ordinary. An ordinary life with an ordinary church and ordinary dress and ordinary words. The kind of life I imagine is easier and requires less explanation. A life where we only move when we decide and, as I think about it, seems to become more about us than anything else. Isn’t that ordinary? Typical? The American way?
Life hasn’t been ordinary for me. From the first time I told my school friends my church was the Salvation Army and they asked if I went to church in a thrift store and did I get my clothes there too? When moving again because my parents were pastors in that extra-ordinary church, the school secretary told my mother (as she was enrolling me) that NO, it was NOT a church and my mother had to assure her it WAS, no that didn’t seem ordinary. Forget explaining my mother was an ordained minister!
I liked my church. I just wanted it to be like the others. I wanted ordinary. I didn’t want to be seen in the uniforms we wore on Sundays or the military titles and terms we use. Please, God, just let us be a church!
Ordinary doesn’t seem to follow me. These last few weeks have been anything but with too much travel and representing our rehabilitation program to those “ordinary” church leaders and saying our earthly farewell to the most EXTRA-ordinary woman in our lives. My body knows it, feels it as I struggle to sleep past 4AM and spend days on the road.
Today I’m pretending ordinary. I’m going to the dentist, grocery shopping and doing laundry. The uniform will hang in the closet until Sunday and the ordinary will be my respite, my refuge today. Just the external ordinary. Internally, my heart burns with this calling from God to the extra ordinary life we live. I still wrestle with God about it, too often. He calls us to his extra-ordinary where we show His grace and mercy and we tell of His love. He is anything but ordinary and I hope never to forget that.
Liking up with Lisa-Jo Baker for FMF. Click here for directions to join.