(Sacred Ordinary – Parking Lot Reflection)
Some days don’t fall apart dramatically.
They just feel heavy in quiet ways.
Nothing terrible happened today.
Work got done. Lillian went to practice. The world kept moving the way it always does.
But somewhere between too much coffee, not enough water, sore legs from a weekend on bleachers, and a parking lot full of thoughts, I could feel the weight of everything pressing just a little harder than usual.
Marriage is funny that way.
You can love someone deeply and still feel the ache of distance on certain days. Not because something is broken — but because closeness is the place your heart recognizes as home.
And when that closeness feels just a little out of reach, the quiet spaces get louder.
The mind starts asking questions it probably shouldn’t answer on a tired day.
Of course, it didn’t help that the radio decided to play “Lonely Women Make Good Lovers.”
Because apparently the DJ and the universe both woke up this morning and chose violence.
I mean really.
There I was — sitting in a studio parking lot, waiting on baton practice to end, nursing a tension headache, holding a Hershey bar like it was emotional support chocolate… and the soundtrack to the evening decided to underline the theme.
Thanks for that.
But I’m learning something slowly — something I didn’t know a year ago.
Not every feeling is a verdict.
Some are just weather.
Some days come with heavy skies and hormones and a brain that wants to solve the entire marriage before dinner. Some days come with too much caffeine, Chick-fil-A nuggets between classes, and music that feels a little too accurate.
And that’s okay.
Because even on the heavy days, life keeps offering small ordinary things that hold everything together:
A daughter who loves baton enough to practice three at once in the yard.
A quiet car with music playing.
The simple rhythm of picking up nuggets between classes.
Maybe healing doesn’t always look like fireworks.
Maybe sometimes it looks like a tired mom sitting in a parking lot realizing that even on the hard days, love is still there underneath it all.
Quiet. Imperfect. But steady.
And tonight, that’s enough.
