My heart is not proud, Lord,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.
But I have calmed and quieted myself,
I am like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child I am content.
Israel, put your hope in the Lord
both now and forevermore.
It was a mostly ordinary weekend. My husband had to go in to work for a little while on Saturday. The plumber came and fixed the pressure gauge on our water - something to do with the well. After lunch, the family did a little grocery shopping together, then came home to barbecue and watch a movie. Sunday morning, before church, we worked to get ready for the coming week, cleaning house and cutting up fruit. Mowing and naps after church. Another barbecue. Mostly ordinary.
It would be hard to write a story about the weekend - about any one or two events or moments. The only thing that stands out at all, is the fact that I've been getting over being sick. Sick over spring break - such timing! But there are precious moments.
My daughter standing next to the dinner table - standing to sing our prayer of thanksgiving before the meal, because mom's voice is gone and she's going to have to sing solo - standing by her chair to sing a solo - eyes closed, sweet sincerity.
My husband, leaning around my daughter in the pew, giving me the significant eye when the pastor mentions falling asleep in front of the TV as one of those things that married couples do. Smiling indulgently at me - his sleepy wife.
Napping on the sofa - waking up to the sound of snoring - mine.
Perfectly grilled brats with sauerkraut and beans.
Catching up on Survivor episodes - my daughter coming off of the sofa to give us hugs with the merge - They're together again! Together - she smiles excitedly.
Nice. There's something to be said about ordinary days.