My Hallmark Movie Saturday Morning

It is Saturday morning, and I am sitting at the kitchen table writing and Biscuit, the blanket stealing dog, is at my feet. I have my cup of tea with cream and a candle burning. The fire roars in the woodstove. There were coals left this morning, so it started easily. I watch the birds outside the window.

It is delightful, basically the perfect morning, right out of a Hallmark Christmas movie, only in early March instead of December.  (In case you missed it, you can read my reflection on Hallmark Christmases, and how I still long for Hallmark moments, even though they pretty much are not real, here:  https://www.ordinaryholy.com/christmas-movie-world/)

Except this is just a moment, and before long I finish the tea, and the fire needs wood, and there is not much inside, so I will need to find the wood carrier and my work gloves so I don’t get splinters, and go outside to the wood pile and make four or five trips to fill up the wood rack again. And though the dog is lazing at my feet now, soon he will get up and stretch and let me know that he wants to go outside, and then he will tell me that he is hungry for breakfast, and I will have to find his food and wash his bowl and then heat up his wet food for ten seconds or so in the microwave, because he is picky and won’t eat it if it is cold. And then there is the cat! The cat! The cat wants in. The cat wants out. The cat wants in. The cat wants out. Though I have finally realized that the cat is not the boss of me, and I do not have to get up every time he demands it, he doesn’t make it easy.

The birds outside at the feeders bring me so much joy, but they are sort of piggy and eat through  their seed pretty quickly, so while I have a few blissful moments observing them and their antics, before long I will need to fill up the feeders, again, and then knock the ice off the bird bath, and maybe even fill up my gallon water pitcher where I make lemonade in the summer and freshen up their water, because they are not very clean, and the birdbath is full of seeds, and tiny feathers, and other things that I do not wish to think about. I make sure to wash my hands after I rinse out the bird bath.

The pan where I cooked my eggs needs to be washed. I will finish my third cup of tea of the morning and will pull off the tags and strings so they can go in the compost pile. I will notice that the compost bag is full and will need to tromp out to dump it.

Time passes at double speed on mornings like this. It takes longer than I think it should to do all the things I love to do during the first part of my day: a few minutes of centering prayer, a few minutes of journaling, a few pushups.

I luxuriate in being able to stay in my pajamas, with no rush to get dressed, but then somehow (suddenly!) it is going on 11:00 am and it doesn’t feel so good anymore. Like, I am starting to feel gritty and sweaty and smelly. My teeth should have been brushed hours ago. And then after all the tea? I have to make a hasty trip to the bathroom.

My Hallmark movie morning feeling fades. Time moves along, and moves me with it, and before I know it, I feel like I’m behind, and I lose my sense that all is right with the world.

But that’s not true either. Maybe the trick is to grow in the awareness that everything, at all times, is OK. That I am always held in God’s infinite love, no matter what day it is or what is going on or what I am doing or not doing. It’s true on Saturday mornings, when I sit in the silence and sip my tea and watch the birds, unrushed and pajama clad. But it’s also true on Monday afternoons, when I go to the post office and grab the mail and get an unexpected bill (not a Hallmark moment). It’s true when I’m driving my son to school and they have the freeway down to one lane, but I didn’t know it, so I hit traffic and come to a stop (not a Hallmark moment) and he is stressed because he will be late (not a Hallmark moment).

Sure,  the holy shows up in the Hallmark moments. But it’s not the only place. Maybe it’s not even the best place. The holy is everywhere: in the wood carrying, the bird feeder filling, the pan scrubbing, the traffic sitting, the bill paying, the cat care (even the cat care). Which is good news for all the days when my life doesn’t feel like a Hallmark movie. Which is most of the time.  The holy meets me where I am, everyday, every heartbeat, every breath.