When I hold my grandson in my arms and give him a bottle … life stands still … I am only there for him.
We have a “ritual” — well, I have a ritual. I feed him in his room, while I sit in the rocking chair my father gave my mother when she was pregnant with me, and I am all his. No phone. No computer. No TV. Just Andrew and me. Eyeballs to eyeballs.
I look deep into his eyes and I can honestly say I have not fed him once where tears of deep emotion did not form. I am so grateful for the gift of this simple activity. And I am sad that his Opa is not here to experience this joy.
As he eats, I let him know I am here for him. He is always safe in my presence. I beam trust, love and the gift of presence to him.
Feeding him is not a task to be completed.
It is a gift. It is an honor. It is a holy act. It is what I call Sacred Mundanity. —Honoring the sacredness of the small, daily, seemingly irrelevant tasks we all need to do each day.
What would life be like if we elevated all the things that make life life to a place of holiness?
Would the food taste better? Would loneliness be a thing of the past? Would egos take the back seat and allow love to lead?
How would the world change if we really truly saw life through the lens of all is holy?
Andrew is teaching me how to be Present at a whole new, deeper level. He is vulnerable. He is just being him, a baby with only one language — to cry. It’s the adults’ job to discern what each cry means because he has no words [yet]!
Where in your life could you elevate a mundane task or two to the sacredness it is and watch your life experience change as a result?
I’d love to know.