DE Ponderings
A friend recommended Kent Haruf’s novel,
Benediction, to me. Finally, after several months of
sitting on my unread-books shelf, I took it down to
read. It is a tender, deeply honest, fictional story of
a man dying from cancer. What gives the novel
fullness, though, is the way in which the author
offers a glimpse into the personal struggles and
associated redemption of the characters.
As I progressed through the novel, one character, a minister, began to steal my attention. His ministry in a metropolitan area had ended poorly and he was sent to small, rural town in which this novel is set. His reputation somehow preceded him to this place and he struggled to gain trust and acceptance. When the bottom dropped out from under him (people walked out during his sermon; his wife moved back to the city; he was being rejected by his son; only a handful of people in the small town accepted him), he decided to stroll along the streets of town, stopping occasionally to peer into the windows of the homes he passed.
Needless to say, this disturbed the residents who immediately called the police, arriving on the scene to inform the minister that he could not do this and must discontinue looking into the windows of his neighbors.
The warning was prefaced with conversation, the police asking the minister why he was doing this. The minister indicated that he wanted to recapture something. He thought he’d see people being hurtful, cruel, engaging in spousal abuse. But instead he saw people being kind to one another, simply going about the routine of their lives, living the ordinary. The minister identified what he observed as the precious ordinary. It was a redemptive moment for the minister.
The phrase, the precious ordinary, struck a chord with me. How often do we believe it is necessary to do the extraordinary in order to be successful or to receive recognition? Too regularly the extraordinary is accomplished at the expense or detriment of those we love most—family.
In reality, as Haruf points out to us through this character in his novel, it’s the ordinary, the precious ordinary, that is most important. Being kind. Carrying out small details of life. Conversing together. Living in amicable, loving relationships. Nothing extraordinary, nevertheless priceless.
Haruf, it seems, picks up on the Church of the Brethren tenet of simple living. We make our mark in life not by grandiose, impressive manners of living or lifestyles, but by living simply. Living simply is more than living with less. Living simply is offering life to others in the ordinary, precious ordinary, things that we do. Caring for our children. Serving on a disaster response team. Praying for our friends. Actively listening to another’s heart-wrenching story. Weeping with those who have lost a loved one. Standing with the vulnerable.
These are the things that make an ordinary life simply precious.
As I progressed through the novel, one character, a minister, began to steal my attention. His ministry in a metropolitan area had ended poorly and he was sent to small, rural town in which this novel is set. His reputation somehow preceded him to this place and he struggled to gain trust and acceptance. When the bottom dropped out from under him (people walked out during his sermon; his wife moved back to the city; he was being rejected by his son; only a handful of people in the small town accepted him), he decided to stroll along the streets of town, stopping occasionally to peer into the windows of the homes he passed.
Needless to say, this disturbed the residents who immediately called the police, arriving on the scene to inform the minister that he could not do this and must discontinue looking into the windows of his neighbors.
The warning was prefaced with conversation, the police asking the minister why he was doing this. The minister indicated that he wanted to recapture something. He thought he’d see people being hurtful, cruel, engaging in spousal abuse. But instead he saw people being kind to one another, simply going about the routine of their lives, living the ordinary. The minister identified what he observed as the precious ordinary. It was a redemptive moment for the minister.
The phrase, the precious ordinary, struck a chord with me. How often do we believe it is necessary to do the extraordinary in order to be successful or to receive recognition? Too regularly the extraordinary is accomplished at the expense or detriment of those we love most—family.
In reality, as Haruf points out to us through this character in his novel, it’s the ordinary, the precious ordinary, that is most important. Being kind. Carrying out small details of life. Conversing together. Living in amicable, loving relationships. Nothing extraordinary, nevertheless priceless.
Haruf, it seems, picks up on the Church of the Brethren tenet of simple living. We make our mark in life not by grandiose, impressive manners of living or lifestyles, but by living simply. Living simply is more than living with less. Living simply is offering life to others in the ordinary, precious ordinary, things that we do. Caring for our children. Serving on a disaster response team. Praying for our friends. Actively listening to another’s heart-wrenching story. Weeping with those who have lost a loved one. Standing with the vulnerable.
These are the things that make an ordinary life simply precious.
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