June 15: Publicity Photo, Band Practice, Potluck

Greetings, readers, friends, and the simply curious.  I wish I could tell you I have a new poem for you to read today.  I don't.  I wish I could say I have some witty, embarrassing story to tell you.  I don't.  I wish I could relate some important event from today.  I can't.

It's been one of those days, like so many countless days in a person's life, where nothing of real significance has happened, and I haven't accomplished anything of note.  Last night, at the first session of the Spiritual Autobiography Workshop I'm running, I talked a little bit with the workshop members about the spiritual discipline of noticing.  I often go through my day without really paying close attention to what's going on around me.  As a Christian, I've been taught and really believe that God is everywhere--in the eggs I eat in the morning, in the words I type into my blog, in the people I help at my job.  Every one of my actions, everything I say, is a reflection of God's presence in my life.  That's pretty heavy.

The problem is that most people have become blind to the evidence of God in their lives.  Because I see the sunrise every morning as I go to work, I don't notice whether it's pink or orange or lemon-colored.  Because I register patients for surgery every day, or teach students about comma splices, I don't contemplate that I may be talking to Jesus.  Because I hear it every day, I don't recognize God's love for me when my son squeals "Daddeeeeeee" as I walk through the door in the evening.  I'm so wrapped up in my problems and worries that I forget to look for miracles, for God's footsteps or fingerprints, in my daily grind.

That's what the spiritual discipline of noticing is all about--slowing down, looking around at God's work each and every minute.  Noticing isn't a common practice among most people, even those who profess to be Christians.  It's much easier to focus on what we don't have than what we do.

So, on this basically ordinary day, I give thanks for ordinary miracles.  I give thanks for the cheesy potatoes at the potluck at work this afternoon.  I give thanks for the songs and music I'll play at praise band practice tonight.  I give thanks for the photo of me my friend took with her phone-camera (even if it shows all of my chins and highlights my follicle-challenge).  I can use it for a publicity poster of a poetry reading I'm going to be giving in July.  When you take the time to look around, you notice the miracles.

That's Saint Marty's message on this boring day:  take a look around and see God.

My publicity photo--"Say cheesy potatoes!"