Some mornings begin with headlines and alarms, but most mornings at my house begin with the quiet click of the kettle heating water for coffee. The smell drifts through the kitchen while the sun edges across the countertop. It is nothing special and everything special at the same time.

I used to hurry through scenes like this, convinced that the important stuff comes after I "begin my day." Lately I am learning to slow down and watch what happens in the smallest places. Scripture keeps nudging me in that direction. Jesus is recognized in the breaking of bread on the Emmaus road, not in a flash of light. The risen Christ meets weary disciples on a beach at dawn, tending a charcoal fire and offering breakfast. The Spirit arrives not only in rushing wind but also in a gentle breath. Ordinary moments become doorways to holiness when we notice who is with us.

Brother Lawrence,a 17th-century Carmelite monk, called this “practicing the presence of God,” and it still rings true. Folding towels, taking out the trash, answering email; each action can echo a larger love when we bring curiosity and gratitude to it. It is not about pretending chores are glamorous, but trusting that nothing is wasted in the economy of grace. The same hands that bless bread on Sunday can rinse dishes on Tuesday, and both can be acts of worship.

If you feel your week has been uneventful, you have not missed out. Holiness is hidden in plain sight: in the rhythm of your breathing, in the warmth of a handshake, in the sentence you finally wrote after staring at a blank page.

Pay attention.
Bless the ordinary.
Let it bless you back.

My wish for you this week, Reader, is that your eyes will catch the glimmers tucked inside familiar routines. May every sip of water remind you of living water, and every step you take ground you in love that never hurries past. May you find the sacred woven through the simplest tasks, and may that discovery give you rest and joy. That's the fiLLLed life.

Live a fiLLLed life, Melissa ​