Inspiration, Loss


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Life can be as ordinary as a field of common clover, all three-leaf. I sometimes get tired of ordinary. I grow weary of passing days with 24 ordinary hours, day after ordinary day. Nothing exceptional marks the days and nights. They just pass, making me wonder if I’m wasting them.

In my younger years, I had the ability to make extraordinary things happen. Not in these days. These days, it seems that my most noteworthy accomplishment is to thrive in the midst of ordinary days.

I would be lying if I said I did not miss the extraordinary days of my life. And I would be lying if I said I am not still trying to reach the extraordinary realm in some way. The truth is I am trying. I am struggling to find meaning in my present days and to cherish every day as a gift. By the way, now and then in that very ordinary field of three-leaf clover one spots a sprig with four leaves, and suddenly it is not so ordinary. It has been estimated that there are approximately 10,000 three-leaf clovers for every four-leaf clover. Even so, people still look for them and known records for finding that rare four-leaf clover have reached as high as 160,000.

Still, I make peace with ordinariness. And as I do, I pay close attention to the words written by Lindsey O’Connor.

“Sometimes mystery defies what our head knows and we feel God reach down into the ordinariness of nightly ritual and speak to our heart with a whisper.”

― Lindsey O’Connor, The Long Awakening, a Memoir

Even in the ordinariness of ritual, I can say that God reaches down and speaks to my heart with a whisper. It is those holy moments that sustain me. An an occasional four-leaf clover.

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