GK Chesterton writes that “grown up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony … It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy.”
In reverence to and consideration of the Divine, we are also moved to appreciate and learn from children and how to surrender into the living present. Through children, we witness the appetite of infancy, which savors the pure wonder of experience.
The thrill of finding out – testing all things – and clinging to what is good.
It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them.
GK Chesterton
Deciphering the delicious from the bland. Determining the purpose of putting one foot in front of the other: Learning to walk in our early years, and learning to keep going when all the years add up to heavy.
The glory of God’s love is that it is always, forever, and unchanging. It is also a choice we are given; we have the free will to decide, reach for, and cling to our Savior’s outstretched hand.
Perhaps that is the glory we see in every sunrise. In the fullness of that loving gaze, our Creator chooses to make it new every morning.
Exactly the same and totally different.
The monotonous miracle.
Consider the Lilies of the Field
Is resistance to monotony a symptom of poor spiritual discipline and self-control?
Do we worry because we do not have faith in a divine plan; and therefore we miss the chances to participate in the miracle of the here and now?
To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.
Mary Oliver
Floral Fumes
Four phone calls to the florist this week and still no guarantee that the arrangements for the brunch ‘n brass event will be exactly as the room mock-up dictates. The account executive picked up their handheld, inserted the earpiece, and dialed. Time for answers.
“Well, we bring our fresh cuts straight from the garden to our studio every morning. We arrange fresh off the vine,” Fatima the Florist replied to the inquisition. “We have plenty of flowers, that I guarantee, but just can’t know for sure the color, since the brunch service is still 21 days out. I’ll have a better idea the week of, but rest assured. Just last night we put together a great room full of sunflowers, daisies, roses, and stargazers.”
“But I specified exactly red tulips. And I didn’t hear you say red tulips. Can you guarantee white tulips and go buy some dye if you have to? Or else I’ll have to call 911-FLOWERS and do this myself.”
Terse Taskmaster
The fifth call ended without a goodbye or thank you, just a veiled threat. The account executive’s rumination was interrupted by a burst of energy through the office door. The intern trio was a melody of wiggling excitement, still reeling from the deadline rush - they had been charged with design mock-ups for an experimental campaign with a creative community collaborative.
“We have something to show YOU,” the three said in unison. As they pulled the presentation boards from the portfolio, the account executive noticed ink smears still fresh on their hands and shirtsleeves.
“This will have to wait,” the account executive said. “I need you to search up ‘red tulip arrangements’ and work on a brunch ‘n brass back up plan.”
Voice of Wisdom
Driving home, the account executive called their favorite college professor who led a music theory class. In case the brass band backed out, hopefully they could suggest a playlist to have on standby.
“Can you imagine? Quiche on the table and no tuba in the background?” the account executive sighed and then rattled off the day’s disappointments and languishing loose ends.
“Can you imagine?” the wise professor countered, “the promise of fragrant flowers fresh from the vine. Creative joy and harmony filling the room?”
“Huh?”
“You wouldn’t have to imagine. It was right in front of you. This day. And yet by worrying, did you add a single hour?”
