I wear my great-grandmother Gertrude’s (this name makes me smile) wedding band on my ring finger. It is simple. Just a silver band. Very plain. Nothing anyone would notice or comment on. I actually have a rather eye-catching diamond ring sitting in my jewelry box at home, that I haven’t worn in years, opting for Grandma Gert’s ring instead. Sometime after having my son, I just found the simpleness of it better suited.

The ring dates from June 26, 1923! I know this because the exact date is etched on the ring. My great-grandfather, Robert, gave her this ring with their initials and wedding date carved inside. You see, from the outside, it looks like a perfectly ordinary, some would even say boring silver band. But if you could see inside, you would say that’s where the beauty is—hidden away. In flowery script, an important date between two important people (at least to my family) is memorialized.

How sweet to wear a great-grandmother’s ring. To know this tiny piece of jewelry was exchanged under vows by two souls that would later be responsible for producing my family (who just so happens to be some of my favorite people) is a lovely thought. I never met my great-grandma, Gertrude. We did not walk this earth at the same time; and yet, I carry a little piece of her with me everyday. It is quietly etched into the most unassuming piece of jewelry I own.

I also know some very unassuming people. They are just ordinary, everyday people. They have jobs like teachers or nurses or data analysts. They have ordinary families with the regular ups and downs; the kid that hits a home run, the dog that digs up the garden—again, the marriage on the back burner as they care for an elderly parent or whatever. Just life. Nothing eye-catching. Nothing that would make someone stop mid-conversation and say your life sounds amazing. Nobody is asking to see their plain silver band in the way you would a precious gem. Their lives don’t look like diamonds. The sun doesn’t catch on facets of their life and sparkle and dazzle all those around.

Besides, we tend to romanticize our dream job, our ideal family, that perfect trip. And, yes, these things have their moments. The promotion at work, the book deal, the vineyard wedding and the sleeping baby all have their thrill. I have had some of my own big moments—drinking coffee in Paris and seeing my first article in print! And even the everyday joys are such blessings. I delight in my friendships and in laughing with my husband and seeing my child love literature as much I do; it adds such sweetness to life. But honestly, in this season of my life, the thrilling moments are nestled in deep between just a lot of ordinary living.

Do you feel this way?

Is there just so much ordinary?

Do you feel like a plain silver band, that no one would notice?

And yet, when we become children of God, we are immediately taken out of the ordinary and remade into the extraordinary. Our plainness is transformed into breathtaking beauty, but it all takes place on the inside. Just like my ring, a very important script is written on our soul: “You are mine.” The day we say “yes” to our Lord and Savior, He claims us as His own. He immediately sets out to change us. He takes our plainness, our ordinariness and etches truth in a beautiful font upon our hearts.

So someone passing us on the street won’t stop and say, “wow, you sure are special!” And yet, if they sat with us, shared a cup of coffee and a deep conversation, they would see we are different than just the plain silver band they took us for. We are full of light. We have exchanged our heart of stone for a heart of flesh. We are like-minded with Christ and Holy Spirit led, or at least striving for these things.

When I look down at Gertrude’s ring, it does not impress me. When I look around at my life it also often fails to impress. It looks like a lot of laundry to do that will just need to be done again and again, vacuuming up dog hair that collects everyday and stacking tea cups in the dishwasher. And then there’s lunches to make, spelling words to go over, fights over screen time and who is going to walk the dog? And don’t even get me started on dinner (pasta again?). We cut the lawns, fix broken furnaces, shovel driveways and change light bulbs and I could yawn at the mundaneness of it all.

I have to remove Gertrude’s ring to be able to read the inside and see its worth. It actually wow’s me—really, when I take the time to read the inside; it’s beautiful! I have to look at the inside of my life to be impressed, as well. Behind all that cleaning and shopping and driving, behind work meetings and endless emails to be answered, behind the is-this-all-there-is thinking and there-has-to-be-more wondering is something special for the Christian.

God has written it on our hearts; He has made us special. We have been called out of darkness into His marvelous light.

We have been selected as special. We are an off-menu dish, the collection kept in the back room, let into the VIP area sorta special. You can’t tell from the outside. But we are called by God to work for Him. We have been bestowed with gifts and prayer power to change the very fabric of this world. Once we choose to follow Christ, He points directly at us and says, “I have a job for you.”

“Who me?” We look around, surely He is talking to someone else.

The guy over there with overflowing charisma or that woman with all the money and connections. Sure God could really use their lives, but not mine; did you hear about the laundry I have to do?

“Yes, you,” He says again.

Some people shake their heads and just walk away; I have nothing to offer, I think you have the wrong guy. Others say I don’t want that job, to raise these kids, work at that office, live there? I want something more exciting - with travel and covered business expenses. I don’t want a special needs child or a challenging marriage; I don’t want a ministry where I have to talk to people. What else do ya got?

But you are special. He has a special job just for you.

The Lord has been doing a work in me (in you). At times I think my life is just plain hard, but what if all this struggle in life is actually a training ground. Some of us have been training hard! Those issues in our thought life, with that parent, the guy at work. Yup. Training. So, when God calls us to encourage, help, pray, teach, admonish (gulp), we have already practiced. (Perhaps failed.) And practiced again.

Once we become a child of God, we are no long ordinary. Our struggles are no longer commonplace. And our responses are no longer typical. We have the Word of God hidden on our hearts, prayers on our lips and eyes for eternity. While we walk this earth we may look like plain silver bands, but there has been a promise written on our hearts and one day we will be like precious stones.

Perhaps you are going through a season or a whole life of really hard blows. And you are thinking, I would love some ordinary. Well, not only will the Lord take our ordinary, He will take our down right awful and use it for His glory.

To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.

Isaiah 61:3 kjv

Don’t let the enemy make you feel small or plain; your worth has been etched on you by the very finger of God. Even better: Your name is written on the palm of His hands (Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands. . . Isa 59:16a). So when Satan tries to whisper in your head that you don’t matter or your life is too small or too ordinary, he is just worried. He doesn’t want you to use your God-given gifts to bring glory to the Lord. so he is trying to bury them in the everyday tedium of life. But your prayers are just as effective from a dark basement apartment as from the mountain tops. You can read Scripture over a cluttered coffee table, the same as over a still, blue lake.

You, my Christian friend, are anything but ordinary!

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Winter came early here in Michigan (and perhaps the whole country). Quite suddenly, we had no idea where our ice scrapers were and snow pants were seemingly sold out overnight. And all this, before I even had a chance to assess if we had any matching gloves (by the way . . . the answer is no; I somehow have only seven right hands - if anyone can explain this to me, please do so). And just like that, the holidays are upon us. While I love the first wave of the season, from pumpkin everything and gingerbread lattes to twinkly lights and Christmas music; it’s all the ambiance with none of the stress. I can enjoy the decorations in my favorite coffee shops and fill my car with Carol of the Bells, until the second wave steamrolls in: then these twinkly lights start on full stroke mode, the music becomes too loud and too frantic and there’s so much stuff to buy and wrap and all the traveling . . . oh, my!!

This year I have decided to try and float through the holidays.

Sounds great, right?

But how does one float?

A basic staple of any swim class is learning to float. It doesn’t seem like something we would have to be taught. After all the human body is almost naturally buoyant. If we just relax and fill our lungs with air, we sit on the surface of the water with hardly any effort. Yet, as I sat on the sidelines of a class of beginners’ swim lessons, floating was anything but natural. It was downright terrifying.

My son did not take to swimming easily. He, like many kids, was afraid to go underwater. It took some tough love from a wonderful swim teacher to convince him to put his head underneath the surface. Ms. Liz was loving and patient, but no nonsense. She would listen to his fears and say she understood, but he would, in fact, be going underwater. I completely trusted her and I knew it was very important for him to learn to swim. I, too, understood his fears, but I knew this was an important lesson—vital to a kid that lives in a beach town. As I would wade through his fears and tears to get him where he needed to be to learn to swim, I wondered how God looks at me as I fight an important lesson He is trying to teach me. He understands I’m afraid of the unknown and what could go wrong, but He also knows I must learn to swim in this world.

Once my child went underwater a few times, lo and behold, he not only liked it, he loved it! In fact, a new problem arose as the class stood in line on the submerged ledge; instead of being afraid of putting his head underwater, he was always underwater! (Duly missing the instructions in his lesson.) While I gave him my “get it together eyes” from the sidelines, as the teacher had to ask, yet again, for him to keep his head above water; it secretly made me smile to see him enjoy the water so much. Not only do I want him to be safe, I want him to enjoy the freedom and delight of swimming. Just as we learn all the safety lessons from studying our Bibles, I imagine God smiles, seeing his children enjoy life, but like any loving parent, He wants us to do it safely. He designed us for relationships and he gifted us with talents and skills, he gave us passions and callings, but he knows we could easily drown in them. Unless we first learn to swim.

In the swim class, Ms. Liz would have the kids lay on their backs and practice floating on the surface of the water. She taught them that if they ever get in trouble to just flip over on their backs and float. (A skill we all need during this holiday season.) Well, my child could not do this, he would immediately panic, struggle and sink. The instructor would say, “Do you trust me not to let you go under?” He would nod yes, but his heart wasn’t in it. Has the Lord asked you to trust Him as he untangles your hurts, moves you forward in something new or closes a chapter in your life? And while you are nodding yes, is your heart panicking? What is He asking of you in this season of celebrations and time with family? Are we drowning under doing it all? Doing it perfectly? Sinking while your arms are full of pumpkin seasoning and rustic sleigh bell gift adornments.

Ms. Liz helped my son by letting him rest his head on her shoulder as he tried to float. That way he could feel something firm underneath his head and she would whisper to him, “I got you.” I see myself in this, God lets me rest my head on his shoulder (my crazy spinning brain that just needs to rest) while I’m learning to float. When I’m tired and worn out by this world, the demands of life, the fear of moving forward in faith — I can’t even float, I just start to sink. We start to think our gifts aren’t thoughtful enough, our party clothes aren’t sparkly enough and that the cookies came out a bit too chewy (well I don’t think that because everyone knows I will break my own oven to get out of baking). I can rest all my inadequacies on the shoulders of the Lord. I can lay my worries and fears on Him.

Last year my sister came home for Christmas and she texted us and said, I will not be bringing any gifts, the gift is my presence! And you know what? I loved it! I do enjoy giving and getting gifts, but the ultimate gift I can give to you and you can give to me is to be in each other’s lives. So that necklace or scarf I got you is just bonus. I can float though the pressure of . . . is it the right color or the right thing? Should I have done more? This is not the real gift. What you are really unwrapping is a ”thank you” for being there when I call too late or need too much. This one day and this one gift will never be worthy of all the times you made me laugh or got me out of a jam. So, I’m just going to float this pair of gloves over your way and if it’s still in the bag I bought it in, well . . . that’s okay, too.

The interesting thing about floating is that there is a lot of trust involved. Our bodies will lay on the surface of the water, but only if we relax and let go of all the panic and fear weighing us down. I wrote in my last post (Drafts on Ebb Tide) about how the enemy tries to drown us with lies about how unforgivable we are, how we will never overcome our pain or how we can’t handle our present situation. Sure we can struggle through the water with these burdens, but eventually when we run out of our human energy, we will need rest. The enemy knows we can never float with these things weighing on us. His lies are meant to make us sink. And we can go under in a million ways: drinking too much, escaping into entertainment too often, finding our worth in unstable things like status and money and looks. I personally can feel depression and despair start to pull me away from the people in my life that would uplift me; everything looks dark and I just want to stay under a blanket to cope. And the whole point of the holidays is lost in the enemies lies. And the point? A thankful heart around the thanksgiving table and star-lit eyes over the babe found in the manger. Peace in our souls and good will towards men is the point.

Floating is rest. The rest we need. God designed our bodies to need breaks. When we sleep we heal and recharge. He built night into day, sabbath into the week and our bodies float so we don’t have to always be swimming. When my day swarms me; emails, laundry, hurting friends to pray for, research for my writing and 3rd grade math (which in my case means watching instructional youtube videos and still not understanding) and then I have to come up with something for dinner on top of all that?!

I need time in my day to just float and on those days that I can’t even float because I feel too crazy, the Lord lets me lay my head on His shoulder and whisper, “I’ve got you.” I open my Bible and the living Word soothes me and I ask the Holy Spirit to help me and He buoys my soul (even though nothing in my physical world has actually changed). So I heat up soup and toast bread and laugh at 3rd grade math because seriously, what else is there to do? And I float.

We float because our lungs are full of air. My air is God. He fills me. He holds me until I can swim again. When things are really bad, when I’m afraid and lost He lets me lay my head on something firm. His Word is firm. His character is solid. His truth is enough to carry all my weights until I let Him cut them loose. Then when exhaustion hits, I know what to do. I flip over on my back and float. A prayer in the car. A Bible verse check on my phone. Truth is in my head and faith in my heart, where it can’t be lost or misplaced. It’s really not that hard as it turns out, but it feels scary. Like my son in swim class, it takes a leap of faith, that feeling as you start to sink, but then somehow you don’t. The Holy Spirit brings you back up to the surface where you can lay there and just breathe.

So this year I’m going to try and float through the holidays. The gifts will never be enough, I will be overly tired from traveling and a little jittery from all the coffee. I most likely will not be at my best. So if you want to have a little cry in the spare bedroom or borrow my undereye concealer come find me. I’m going to try and not panic and just rest in God.

My advice for this busy, crazy festive season is to start practicing floating.

In what areas of your life are you drowning and instead of flipping over on your back to float—you are panicking? Is it finances? Health? Relationships?

How do you drown in the holidays? What would it look like if you tried floating through? Simple unwrapped gifts, less commitments, buy the cookies? (I mean, I have to because my oven is broke)

Drafts on the Ordinary Life