"Where eucharist in the ordinary happens"

We had a wonderful evening today. Holly wanted family pictures. So, we went to Memory Grove and enjoyed the beautiful and sunny fall weather. While we were there ran into several people we know, friends. It made us miss living in the city. Scott (not me) is being baptized on Sunday (I hope to be there) and married next Friday to Claudia, who is from Argentina. Another friend is back from rehab. She was walking her dog, with her parents who are visiting from Massachusetts, and her two children, who are friends with our daughters. We ate out, which was very enjoyable, parking and walking several blocks to and from the restaurant. It's one of those experiences that helps to me realize just how blessed I am.

So, my heart turns to poetry. The poem that came to my mind as I walked with my two lovely daughters and little Adam to our car from the restaurant was John O'Donohue's The Inner History of a Day:

No one knew the name of this day;
Born quietly from deepest night,
It hid its face in light,
Demanded nothing for itself,
Opened out to offer each of us
A field of brightness that traveled ahead,
Providing in time, ground to hold our footsteps
And the light of thought to show the way.

The mind of the day draws no attention;
It dwells within the silence with elegance
To create a space for all our words,
Drawing us to listen inward and outward.

We seldom notice how each day is a holy place

Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,

Transforming our broken fragments

Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.

Somewhere in us a dignity presides

That is more gracious than the smallness

That fuels us with fear and force,

A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.

So at the end of this day, we give thanks

For being betrothed to the unknown

And for the secret work

Through which the mind of the day

And wisdom of the soul become one.