The Holiest Thing

In just a few days, we will enter what is known as Ordinary Time on the liturgical calendar. Or, as I also like to call it, The In-Between-Special-Candy Season. The candy and treats that come through our house between October and New Year’s Day can get out of hand. As much as I love mini Milky Ways, pumpkin everything, cake balls crusted in crushed candy canes, and chocolate dipped [insert your favorite fruit and/or cookie here], I’m ready for a break from the sweets and overindulgences.

If you don’t mark your calendar by the dessert menu or seasonal drinks at Starbucks as some of us are prone to do, ordinary time can also be marked by the time between Epiphany (the twelfth day after December 25) and the first day of Lent, or the time between the holidays and celebrations.

The decorations are packed away, gifts returned or hung in closets. The Christmas cookies are stale or have been tossed out, and diets have begun. For some, this in-between time can feel depressing. The house may seem empty now that the tree is gone, and it may feel as though there isn’t anything to look forward to.

While the holidays are fun and give us a thrill, like the indulgence of gifts and treats, too much of a good thing can make me feel unsettled. I look forward to Ordinary Time, and I’m ready to get my house back in order. I love Christmas hymns and carols, but I’m ready to sing the songs of steadfast love. I’m ready to take a break from the thrill of the season and focus on the simple beauty of life around me.

If you are feeling unsettled by the absence of holiday, I invite you to look to Christ’s table, where he invites us to renew his covenant of redemption. His table is not only for Christmas Eve or Good Friday, but for every day. He invites us to let go of what may be holding us back from a deeper relationship with him and partake in his gift of sacrifice and unconditional love. The simplicity of our Lord’s supper is sustenance enough to carry us through Ordinary Time. He is poured out for us when the angels are singing on high, during the resounding chorus of “He Is Risen,” and in the in-between time when all we can come up with is a broken hallelujah. He invites us to be filled, to drink the cup and break the bread in the in-between.

Not every church participates in the Lord’s Supper every Sunday, and that’s okay. Even if you are not able to meet at the table in your church each week, you can still find the beauty of his table in an ordinary day. For me, it’s peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I used to hate making sandwiches in the early morning hours. Tired, bleary-eyed, and not yet caffeinated, all I could think of as I spread peanut butter was my warm, cozy bed that was growing colder by the minute. Making sandwiches for lunchboxes was the signal of a new day, and I felt forced to face it.

Then one day, everything changed for me. Twenty-six children lost their lives in an ordinary town in Connecticut. From that day on, there were twenty-six moms or dads who would no longer be making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Suddenly, making these sandwiches for my little ones’ lunchboxes seemed like the holiest thing I could do, like my most important job.

I still think about those parents, who surely still grieve their losses. And instead of bemoaning making sandwiches in the early hours, I spread peanut butter on wheat bread and say a prayer. I remember that Christ’s body was broken for my children and for those he now holds in his arms. As I spread grape jelly, I thank God for the blood that was poured out for me, for you, for my children and yours. Suddenly, making sandwiches is a holy act. I send a silent blessing in those lunchboxes. I can’t be with my children as they go about their days, but knowing that the Holy Spirit breathes through and around them brings peace in this Ordinary Time.

Take a deep breath and rest in the ordinary. Sit down at his table. Look for what is disguised as ordinary and instead find what is holy. Humbly and gratefully accept what he offers, saying a prayer of thanksgiving for his sacrifice and a prayer of mercy for those who are searching for healing. My hope and prayer is that you will find transformative peace in this season of Ordinary Time.

Stephanie Clinton is a writer and blogger but more importantly, a wife and mother to two little boys. In her free time (if there is any) she can be found wiping snotty noses and volunteering in her community and school. Learn more about Stephanie along with her passion to encourage women and lighten their load at www.hugskissesandsnot.com.

Photograph © Bethany Beams, used with permission