Nobody writes songs about Tuesdays. We save our poetry for the grand days — the weddings, the births, the mornings when everything changes. But I have lived long enough to know that most of life is not made of grand days. Most of life is made of Tuesdays.
Tuesday is the day nothing special happens. The laundry needs folding. The kettle needs filling. The same prayer rises from the same kitchen table. And yet, somewhere in that ordinary rhythm, I have found some of the holiest moments of my life.
It was a Tuesday when I noticed the way light fell across my Bible and made the pages glow. It was a Tuesday when a grandchild climbed into my lap for no reason at all and changed the whole shape of the afternoon. It was a Tuesday when I finally understood, really understood, that the God of the burning bush is also the God of the breakfast table.
Joy is not a feeling we chase. It is a posture we practice. When we slow down enough to notice — the steam rising from a cup, the sound of rain on the window, the quiet faithfulness of another ordinary morning — we discover that heaven has been leaking into our Tuesdays all along.
So today, whatever kind of day it is, do not wait for the grand moment. Look for God in the small one. He is there. He has always been there. And the joy you have been searching for in the big things is quietly waiting for you in the ordinary ones.
With love, Auntie Mina