the migrant wife

Today for dinner, I popped a bit of chicken marinated in Italian herbs and lemon juice into the slow cooker; I blanched the potatoes then covered them with rosemary, thyme, salt, pepper and olive oil and roasted them till golden brown; I put some discount frozen Yorkshire’s into the oven; I boiled some frozen peas and fresh broccoli; I fried some onion and thickened the chicken juice to make gravy; we sat, we dined, we feasted.

We talked about our days, how Paul worked on the newest functions of colour-inversion, and many other things that were a bit too far from my grasp, how I made progress at my spreadsheets and new methods of populating tables. We talked about plans, about dreams, about funny little snippets from work and conversation. We shared frustrations that seemed to test our patience, but marveled at how quickly they seem to evaporate once shared. We talked about how to support a friend, we wrote down people and things to pray for. We gave thanks for all we had, the new water glasses we got, our jobs we have, the great food He has provided.

We cleaned the kitchen, we sat down, we watched a few episodes of a terrible series – we giggled at silly dialogue and pointed at obvious plot holes. We laughed, we cuddled, we snacked on gummies and juice.

We prayed. It seemed that at the end of such an extravagant night our God should take the applause: for the lovely fresh flowers He had caused to grow, for the gentle glow of the sunset still lingering in the sky, for the opportunities we get to show our faithfulness at work and at home, for the evidence of His grace in every dish to clean, every binbag to take out, every email to reply to.

It seems like culture tells us to pine for the next big thing. The next breakthrough. The next fad. The next trend. Yet ordinary extravagance is right in front of us, in the moments of familiarity, which, to us as humans of habit and ungratefulness, have become a monotonous and ignorable hum in the background of daily hustle. How counter cultural it is to celebrate – to feast on the goodness of God, right now, right here. To love the little things that He has made. To acknowledge His beauty hidden in Creation. To praise His love in the security of family and marriage.

Thank you, God, for these little moments of ordinary extravagance.