A few weeks ago, a group of us ventured into the White Mountains of New Hampshire for our Youth Hut Hike. The weather forecast was charming: rain and overcast skies for the next three days. On the first day, we went on a day hike up to a summit. Even though it was just a day hike, we wore our backpacks, tested out our hiking boots, and got prepared for our bigger hike the next day. When we got to the top of the summit, we were in a cloud:
I had no idea what the view was supposed to be like, but the cloudy, overcast vibe was beautiful in its own right. We had no idea how high up we were or what any of the surroundings were like.
A couple days later, John Jenke texted Ellen Wilson and me what the view was supposed to look like:
Wow! What a view! I literally had no idea that that was right in front of me.
In the church calendar, we are in a season called “Ordinary Time.” The liturgical colors are green, signifying life and growth. Most of the church calendar year is Ordinary Time. When I first heard about Ordinary Time, it confirmed for me something I had always felt. Not all of life is spectacular summit views; a lot of it is, well, ordinary. And that’s okay. Kind of like that day at the summit when there wasn’t any view at all. But just because we couldn’t see it that day doesn’t mean it’s not there. There are days when the beauty around us is more visible and other days when it might feel far away, but it’s still there.
In these days when the light stretches late into the day, when memories of past summers feel like yesterday and forever ago, and in simple reminders like the joy of a popsicle on a hot day — God is with us. In the ordinary, mundane days, we learn to receive every moment as a gift from our Creator. Ordinary Time is here to remind us that most of life is, well, ordinary. What makes those ordinary days beautiful too, is the people we get to journey alongside.
That day on the foggy summit — The view? Not great. The company? Incredible.
Here’s the secret: the ordinary days, those are sacred, too.
Peace to you,
Rev. Janelle
