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We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites. In addition, text and image links to merchants in this post may be affiliate / referral links, which means we may be compensated if you make a purchase after clicking through those particular links. See our full disclosure policy here.


My day began like any other day. I got up, prayed and read my Bible. I did a few minutes on the bicycle, put a load of laundry in the washing machine. I had breakfast, sipped my coffee, and found myself at my familiar station… in front of the kitchen sink with my gloved hands submerged in hot sudsy water.

The predictability of the day grated against my nerves.

I could anticipate that before the dishes were done, my youngest daughter would whine that she’s hungry again and that my oldest daughter would come barrelling down the stairs and demand breakfast.

I knew that after breakfast, we would start homeschooling and that about 10 am we would stop for a snack and smoothie break. I would move the laundry from the washing machine to the dryer, and would resume our homeschooling.

The girls would listen to an audiobook while I fold the day’s laundry. Then I would make lunch, and we would eat together.

I could anticipate that I would remind my girls to eat with their mouths closed and for them to keep their feet under the table.

I knew that after lunch, I would find myself in front of the sink again, washing another load of dishes. I also knew that they would have a rest time with a show while I do some writing. Then, I would ride the exercise bike while reading, clean one of the bathrooms, and start making supper.

Yes, my life is this predictable.

I couldn’t help but wonder, why is my life so boring? Why is it so mundane?

I used to go to concerts, movies, and outings with friends. Now, I’m lucky if I get out of the house once a week for yoga. The boredom of my days is alleviated by trips to the grocery store, or if I’m ambitious, a visit to the library or park.

My life is far from exciting. One day rolls into the next, and then the next. There is seldom a difference other than the occasional birthday celebration or a family outing.

As I pondered this, I suddenly had a thought that shook me to the core.

My mundane… my boring… my everyday life is something that so many people in this world would envy. My mundane means that we are okay.

Yes, my dishwasher is broken, and I have to wash my dishes by hand, but at least I have food to eat.

We have clothing to be washed. We have the freedom to educate at home.

We have a home that needs to be cleaned.

My mundane means that my children are growing up in a peaceful and calm environment.

My mundane means we can walk to the playground and the library with 99% confidence that we will return home, alive.

My mundane means we aren’t plagued by terror.

Terror.

This word has been on the lips of many lately.

Terror.

Unless you live it, you can’t possibly imagine it.

Terror.

Guilt fills me for condemning the mundane. As a Christian, I am to be thankful in all things and all circumstances. (1Thesselonians 5:18) Yet, I forget… I forget to look at my life through the lens of blessing and abundance.

Yes, my mundane is a blessing.

My mundane is a privilege.

My mundane means that we are alive.

I am thankful for the mundane because my mundane means that we are okay.

 



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Jennifer Bly
Jennifer Bly
Author of My Kitchen, My Classroom: An Introduction to Homeschool and creator of The Deliberate Mom. Jennifer writes about parenting, homeschooling, her faith, and life with her husband and two girls. Jennifer has a Bachelor of Applied Human Service Administration Degree with a specialization in Early Learning in Child Care.



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