Epiphany in the Ordinary

I am not sure if you have the same type of days I do, but as we are all just human, I’m guessing I’m not alone in this.

Today was one of those days where I was too busy to slow down. A lot had to happen in quick succession for me to maintain my spiritual regimen and my physical one, while not missing my appointments. It was a day that felt kind of blah — the kind that vanishes into the background noise of the larger tapestry, woven with crises and epiphanies.

It is easy to get lost in the feeling of blah, and risk not being present when the really good stuff comes along. My lesson was that presence, and being present, may actually be the difference. What if being aware of the possibility of epiphany is what opens the door to experiencing it?

The Day of “Blah”

I woke up at 11:15 — yes, that is an ungodly hour to be awake. I prayed, did my morning meditations, and totally did not accidentally fall back asleep. By 12:15, I was rushing to get dressed for the gym, knowing I had a therapy appointment at 1.

Leg day followed — a miserable thing, yet necessary. I finished around 3:30, hurried home to shower, and then headed to Starbucks for a second coffee and some writing time.

At 4 p.m., I was waiting far too long for my drink — short staff, broken machine — thirty minutes in line. I kept my cool, but inside I felt like curdled milk, souring quickly under the pressures of rushing, finances, and the passion I carry for writing.

Sitting there, I prayed — as I always do before I write. I leaned in.

And out came something so pure and undiluted it shocked me in its depth. All while inside, I still felt like blah.

It made me wonder: do we miss blessings because they happen in their natural habitat — the ordinary, the mundane?

The Revelation

That question was hammered home at my hair appointment later that evening. While sitting in the chair, I had one of the most profound reflections of the Father. Some might call it epiphany. I call it revelation.

I transcribed one of the most beautiful pieces of my life that night: “The Gravy of Grace.”

And it did not come through great turmoil. It was not born out of heartbreak. Sandwiched in the mundane, I witnessed blessing, Truth, an answered prayer, and the Father speaking — reminding me He presides presently, eternally, multidimensionally, and multitemporally.

He can be seen in every way, for every eye, from every angle, at every time, in perpetuity.

The Lesson

He is easier to lean on when we are near breaking because we are more aware of His nearness. But He does not want us to wait until we are broken.

He wants us to look for Him in the mundane, the normal, the pure, the good.

And if you seek with the intent to find — He cannot be missed.

As always,

Dust

To you, my friends, my family.