A Liturgy for the Sacred Mundane

For the morning sun that peeks through the window, 
And the smell of freshly ground coffee. 
For the sleepy faces of children as we wake them and for partners who tell us that we are loved, 
For the mornings without alarms, 
but also for the mornings we are rushing to ensure that everyone gets out the door fully clothed,
For all these sacred mundane things, we give thanks. 

For the smell of fresh cut grass and the colors of spring, 
But also for the restorative rains and the cool breeze of autumn. 
For the feeling of a knowing look, 
For friends who intuit just how to take care of us when life is hard,
But also for that brief moment at the end of a hard season where you feel like you can really breathe again, 
For all these sacred mundane things, we give thanks. 

For the sound of a loved one’s keys in the front door after time apart, 
For the smell of cookies baking in the oven, 
And chips and salsa on a patio. 
For the way dogs greet us as if this moment is the best thing that’s ever happened to them, 
But also for still, quiet, purring cats.
For all these sacred mundane things, we give thanks.

For toilet paper and air conditioning and for the bounty after a grocery run, 
For dark chocolate and hot baths, 
For fresh sheets and the smell of lavender, 
For evenings by the fire with a good glass of wine, 
But also for evenings with cheap beer and belly laughs,
For all these sacred mundane things, we give thanks. 

For the sting of the cold night air, 
And the immensity of the universe, 
For our brief moments of being, 
And for the simple beauty we stand witness to every single day, 
For all these sacred mundane things, we give thanks. 

 

sunrise.jpg