Lord,
ordinary is where You most often choose to dwell.
Most of salvation history
unfolds without spectacle.

You lived thirty years in Nazareth –
working, eating, resting, praying –
before three public years
that changed the world.
No miracles recorded,
yet the Church calls those hidden years holy.

The Church reminds me
that ordinary comes from ordo – order.
Not meaningless repetition,
but a rhythm You build into life:
waking, working, caring,
listening, forgiving,
beginning again.

This is why the Church speaks of Ordinary Time.
Not because nothing happens,
but because everything important grows there.

You do not shout.
You whisper.

You do not ask me
to escape the ordinary to find You.

You ask me
To do chores patiently.
To teach faithfully.
To listen without rushing.
To show up
even when no one notices.

You take
ordinary bread and wine
and transform them.

You do not ignore the ordinary.
You transfigure it.

Teach me to recognise holiness –
not dramatic,
not impressive,
but simple
and faithful.