Finding Joy in the Mundane (A “Dear Danny” Letter)

Dear Danny,

Today is a mundane day. I spent the morning cleaning, after Holy Spirit woke me up before 7a.m. (I read Romans 5 and the crucifixion accounts in all the Gospels), and after I fell asleep again. I did, like, a deep, deep clean of my room, and guess what? I found hidden treasures!

I found an old iPhone and my camera that I previously thought I had lost forever. I charged the battery and it still works like a charm. I’m sitting, listening to Skillet’s song “Stars” as I write to you and I just now noticed that the songwriter uses Pauline arguments (“if this…then how much more…”). An example from the song: “If you can calm the raging sea, You can calm the storm in me.” Paul used this kind of argumentative style a lot in his letters to the churches. It is good to be reminded that God can do much more than our anticipated expectations.

I still see you, though not as often as I did when you first departed. I miss your smile. Today is a mundane day but I’m finding joy in the mundane. I found my camera, I’m resting in the still, quiet presence of God with Skillet being the soundtrack on the train of worship, and I am content.

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I just had a thought of your body. You’ve been dead for 2-3 months, give or take, and I just thought about your body. Cold, buried beneath the earth, dirt in every crevice around you, your body in the process of returning to its state before God breathed life into man for the first time. How long does it take for a body to decay, to decompose completely? I’m rambling, sorry. I just went on a tangent on a dark topic when I was just talking about worshipping God…

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Anyway, speaking of finding joy in the mundane, I cut my thumb opening Aluminum foil. Can you believe that? 🙂 I got the top open but was turning the foil paper over to get to the end where I could begin unraveling it—I had a pizza I wanted to cook—as I was trying to separate the foil, my thumb brushed across the bottom where the sharp ridges were and I felt the familiar sting of pain. I can laugh now, hours later, but it hurt in the moment. Guess I could say that for a lot of happenings, huh? “Endure hardship as a good soldier”, Paul commands us. Ha, he’s not wrong. Opening a foil container for pizza hardly counts as a “hardship,” but I’ll take my lessons where I can get them.

You would’ve laughed at my silly antics had you heard them, Danny. But I see you, smiling at me in my computer chair. I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that for now. Miss you dude. I wish you knew how much you were needed and wanted here.

Until next time.

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