Lisa-Jo Baker for a writing flash mob. I write for five minutes on the topic Lisa-Jo has chosen. Today's writing prompt is ordinary.
I remember ordinary but faintly. Ordinary was a few months ago. Ordinary was restful. It was, well orderly. An early morning coffee during my quiet study time, then a run along the river, no rushing about but just a slow ease into the day.
I haven't enjoyed ordinary in a while now, not since my family began helping our friend from Congo and her three young children after they moved into the homeless shelter for women and children. Now my mornings and days are filled with transportation needs, babysitting, legos strewn about, changing of diapers (it's been a while!) laughter, and sweet hugs.
This week has been even less ordinary than my new normal, as we walked with our friend through the hospitalization and death of her mom. Three young children overnight, bath time, school schedules and quite a bit less sleep.
There has been nothing ordinary this week. I have seen what I didn't know was possible, that there can be beauty in death. Beauty in this love I have seen, a whole mountain of it. Beauty in seeing a daughter care for her mom in her last hours and afterwards. Beauty in the heart-wrenching grief displayed without embarrassment or care for who sees, for this grief honors one so greatly loved. Beauty in the dozens of friends and family streaming into the hospital room to say goodbye and just be present.
I am grateful, so very grateful to have been a part of this not so ordinary week.