In the ordinary

"It is a quotidian mystery that dailiness can lead to such despair and yet also be at the core of our salvation…We want life to have meaning, we want fulfilment, healing and even ecstasy, but the human paradox is that we find these things by starting where we are…We must look for blessings to come from unlikely, everyday places." (Kathleen Norris)

Believe it or not, we’ve hit the halfway mark. Our first 3 months at LIV are over, and we officially   head into the second (and final) “semester”. In this part of the LIV4Change program, we intern. I am working with the marketing team, covering stories on the village and working on the new solar campaign. There has been an obvious shift from discipleship school to internship. As my internship has started, I’ve settled into a daily routine. My days have become, well, ordinary.

And yet. I’ve admitted to so many of you how overwhelming I sometimes find it to convey life at LIV. How do I describe an ordinary day on the village when there is anything but? I have a tendency of painting LIV in a perfect, somewhat utopic light – this children’s village where different cultures and languages mingle seamlessly, staff and volunteers dedicate their lives to prayer and service, and kids are given space to freely grow and heal in love. Other times, by sharing my personal growth in this specific season (that is simultaneously messy and beautiful), I may make LIV seem like a place of ceaseless challenges.

LIV is both. This unique place is home to brokenness and God’s healing. Difficulty and joy. Mountaintops and valleys. On any given, ordinary day.

Much of my ordinary, everyday life is made up of small, unassuming moments. Receiving crazy hairstyles from the youth girls during cluster play. Playing infinite rounds of UNO with Cluster 5 kids. Picking big yellow May flowers (African daisies) along the dusty road home. Going on muddy bike rides in the rain with Eleanor, Jess and Shannon. Watching the big white egrets fly over the dam at sunset, feeling perfectly at peace. Getting used to being called “Miss Tayla” at kids church. Taking volleyball matches very seriously with the youth on Friday nights. Melting each time little Sne runs up to me from far, with her gangly arms and wide smile. Learning boom-snap-clap with Junior at the dinner table. Watching home basketball matches like a true (and overly invested) “soccer mom”. Seeing the toddlers line up excitedly for ice-cream every Tuesday. Sitting in my quiet time spot in the early mornings, behind the multi-purpose hall overlooking green hills and Hazelmere dam…

Since being here, I have found that it is the small things that move me most. Mum Rose (one of the cleaning ladies who wears a red bucket hat every day without fault) does a “good morning dance” when I see her on my way to the office. I watch Steph get up from her desk to help and encourage a somewhat clumsy Mlando skate down the corridor on rollerblades. “This one ma’am,” says Zamo (a four-year old who quickly stole my heart with his kind and gentle nature), each time he picks me purple flowers whilst he waits for his lift home. Mum Yvette bakes us carrot muffins almost every month, bringing them to the Barracks fresh out the oven. At 4pm everyday Oksana plays almost twenty rounds of tennis or shoots about a hundred hoops, simply to connect with the youth over things they love. Justine offers to lead kids church on Sunday, despite having already worked 6 days of the week with toddlers. Without being asked, Matty quietly helps chop up ingredients for dinner and willingly washes up just about every night, even if he is not on cooking or cleaning duty…

Small acts of compassion that often, if not mostly, go unseen and unsung. But have moved me and changed how I view the world in profound ways. These seemingly ordinary moments are like small sanctuaries. The type of sanctuaries that are not just for rest and refuge, but for sanctification too. For it is in these moments that I am learning a lot.

For one, I am learning to be content. And contentment, I have found, comes slowly and steadily by stewarding all that He has given me in each particular circumstance. Like making it part of my routine to mimic Mum Rose’s dance moves to greet her in response. Pressing Zamo’s flowers in my flowerpress to remember him forever. Being intentional at spotting daily opportunities to celebrate some of the kids’ small efforts – be it Mlando rollerblading, tiny Noah practicing 3-pointers, Judah reading, ECD kids learning how to ride bicycles, or Nombulelo baking doughnuts to sell at the café. Spreading Mum Yvette’s kindness by baking cakes for neighbours. Washing up with Matty, and seeing it as the perfect excuse to catch-up on the day. Shooting hoops with Oksana, all the while learning from her wisdom of working with youth. Sharing in Sne’s contagious childlike joy — picking her up and twirling her around! Taking my days at a slower pace to make unhurried space for sweet interruptions. Noticing more…

God is fashioning my heart to my circumstances. And it is here, in the (anything but) ordinary, that He is teaching me invaluable, lifelong lessons of compassion and contentment.