I can't exactly pinpoint what I expected from today, but at some point late this afternoon I realized that those expectations -- whatever they were -- weren't being met.
We had the day off for a for a nominal holiday, but there wasn't a picnic or any sort of gathering. It rained when we visited a park in the morning, and it rained again when we visited the pool during its last open afternoon of the season. We ran errands, but I forgot to pick up milk. I wore exercise clothes, but I never managed to work out. The girls flopped around, listless, and I started to prepare dinner.
It was at that moment while chopping zucchini that I recognized my choice on this very average, very nondescript day.
This is the day that the Lord has made. This is the day! I could accept this to be true, or I could continue wallowing in my vaguely discontented feelings of meh.
It matters little that the day was unremarkable and bland, or that the rain interrupted our amusement, or that I didn't accomplish much. On this day -- like every day -- I am noticed and loved by God, who has placed breath in my lungs, who has given me a purpose.
Let me tell you, I chopped that zucchini with more enthusiasm after this perspective shift.
What do I expect from this average day? Nothing less than communing with the creator of the universe.