About a month ago I took a mini road trip to College Station (Home to Texas A&M) to visit one of my best friends from college. She had just moved there from Lubbock, Texas, with her fiancé, and I was looking forward to the much shorter drive. Ready to get out town as well I planned to leave right after work on Friday. As soon as it hit 4 p.m. I was out the door. As I merged onto the freeway I made a mental checklist of things I need for a successful road trip. Red Bull and Dr. Pepper? Check. An after work snack? Check. Patty Griffin’s whole CD collection? Check. The sun was shining, my windows were down, and I was ready to go. There are few things I love more than a good afternoon drive in the sun. After the stretch on 290 that seems to grow longer each time, I took the HWY 6 Exit and began the second half of my journey.

In that moment I saw them.

I had forgotten all about these. Instead of grass, a sea of blue now covered both sides of the highway. My heart leaped at the sight. As always, Patty delivered and provided me with the perfect song to this defining moment in life. I sang at the top of my lungs, “OH HEAVENLY DAY. ALL THE CLOUDS ROLLED AWAY. GOT NO TROUBLE TODAY. OH HEAVENLY DAY!” I had reached the stretch of Texas that is littered with our state flower during this time of year — The Texas Bluebonnet.

I have lived most of my life in Texas and have had many pictures taken in various bluebonnet fields. I have always known this spring activity to be a common tradition among families in this region. Thus, I eagerly came back home on Saturday afternoon to tell my roommate from Kansas about them. I thought I would be the good Texas tour guide and asked her if you wanted to take a drive to go look at them the following weekend. As she stared at me with a curious face, I was disappointed with her lack of enthusiasm. She looked at me like I was crazy and asked, “why?” I replied back, “Because it’s what you do in Texas!” In the end, I persuaded both my roommates to go for a Sunday drive along with three other girls. A local photographer had recommended to me a road that was off the beaten path, and failed to mention it was a VERY long road. While I felt the others were getting bored and antsy, I didn’t mind the length of the drive one bit. I was enamored with the sea of blue. Four hours later we were on our way home, and I could feel my heart fill with happiness. My spirits had been lifted, and I knew my soul had been satisfied for a few months.

This past summer I had the opportunity to work and live in Colorado as a river rafting guide. Not only did I fall in love with the scenery but with the lifestyle as well. For various reasons I had to make my way back to Houston, and I remember crying a good portion of the drive. I know I’ll make it back to the state in a few years, but as summer approaches I begin to long for the place my soul finds rest. I long for temperatures in the 80s, scenic mountain drives, and midnight floats down the river.

Those bluebonnets, though, were God’s little sign to me. They served as a reminder to enjoy where I am. They reminded me that I love Houston and have always loved Houston. When I’m away from this huge city I long for a burrito from Freebirds, or conversation and coffee at Angora’s. I miss floating down the Guadalupe with friends, and family dinners. When I’m far away from home I miss all the traditions I have grown to cherish. Traditions that can’t be duplicated in other states, such as driving to look at the bluebonnets. So for these next few years that I’m fortunate enough to live in The Lone Star State I will cherish all of these things. I will bloom where I am planted, and I will remember to take time to stop and smell the flowers — exactly where they are. After all, there are no bluebonnets in Colorado.

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Amy Cesak was born and raised in Houston, and finds herself running away from the city only to run back.

Amy is a guest writer for This Ordinary Day’s Sunday Specials. If you would like to participate in Sunday Specials, please click here.

As I was sitting down to write my post — which is late…again — my phone rings. It’s my dad, and I assumed he wanted to talk about the Dallas Mavericks’ struggles in their NBA playoff series against the Denver Nuggets. I’m already late, so a few more minutes won’t matter, right?

But it was not quite the light-hearted conversation I was expecting.

I could tell something was wrong by the tone of his voice. He was just leaving the house of some good family friends, and his news was both shocking and heartbreaking. The eldest son in their family of six, Adam, was found dead in his apartment today. His parents received a call this morning from Adam’s employer saying that he hadn’t been in to work for two days. The police were notified, and a few hours later they discovered Adam deceased in his bed.

There is no reason to expect anything other than natural causes, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. Adam was only 26 years old. He had his whole life ahead of him. His parents are distraught, and understandably so. Although I don’t have any children of my own, I can’t imagine what it would be like to have to cope with the death of a child. His three younger brothers are emotionally torn up and confused. How do you wrap your mind around the fact that someone that you love dearly is gone? Sometimes life just doesn’t seemisn’t fair.

I said a prayer for Adam’s family as I wrote this post, and I will continue to pray for them as they navigate through some very tough emotional waters in the coming months. I pray that they will find the strength to celebrate Adam’s life, despite the indelible weight of these circumstances. They were blessed with 26 years of knowing, loving and being loved by Adam, and that is something worth celebrating.

There is nothing in life more difficult to deal with than death, and there is also nothing more certain. That is why we must celebrate life at every opportunity, and we must cherish it in every moment. Because while it may be fragile and fleeting, there is also untold and incomprehensible beauty to be found in every life.

Confession time: I can’t think of an ordinary moment to celebrate. Actually, there have been plenty of them, but none that I can seem to wrap up into a coherent, meaningful story with a deeper message ensconced between the lines of an everyday event. And that, I’m realizing, is the beauty of a lot of these ordinary moments. They are just that – moments, instants, a fleeting glimpse of the grace that’s shot through the web of everyday experience.

But sometimes, I suppose, that’s what life’s got for you, so either you embrace the little moments or you struggle trying to string together a novel that isn’t there (or maybe just not yet). So in that spirit – in the spirit of the ordinary days we’ve been celebrating for a year now – here are a few of my glimpses of grace:

• Sitting around a crackling fire on a Friday night with friends, with conversation that never went much deeper than 12-year-old dirty jokes at the expense of sausage-roasting. (Sample: “You’ve got to whack it if you want it to stay juicy!” It only got worse from there, or better, depending on your perspective.)

• Eating breakfast with my students on one of the last days of our current program, gathered around the table where we had laughed, cried, argued, joked and procrastinatingly baked our way through the year.

• Getting a voicemail from a friend that had no other purpose than to just say hello and see how I’m doing.

• Waking up in the morning after moving into my new, sterile-feeling apartment and realizing I can look at the Rocky Mountains while I eat breakfast. Over the roof of an Arby’s, but still.

• Curling up on our basement couch with two of my housemates, buried under blankets, watching a movie together.

•That strange feeling you get when you hear a song that really resonates with you for the first time:

Sometimes, I suppose, the larger coherence isn’t necessary. Just the moment is enough.

Writer’s note: Two days ago I had the extreme pleasure of watching my father graduate from high school. Standing in the very same college gymnasium that I stood in seven years ago to receive my own high school diploma, he donned a cap and gown and accepted a certificate recognizing all of his achievement.

At 55 years of age, he proved that nothing is impossible and anything can be overcome. As a teacher of inner city, under-resourced students, I fight to make this idea a reality every day. I didn’t realize until I sat in that gymnasium listening to my father give the graduation address that the story of his childhood education is exactly the story I am trying to prevent in my own students’ lives. I’m happy he has found a confidence to overcome the hurdles which previously stopped him. It gives me hope for the children I teach today.

His words and the lessons he’s learned speak for themselves, so I turn this post over to him and his story.

— — —

My whole life I’ve strived to be the center of attention… this is over kill. A little bit about my past. I believe my problems started in 2nd grade, and I never recovered. I know now I probably had an unidentified learning disability. Grade school was a struggle. I was in trouble all the time. Class clown was the only subject I did well in. I had good teachers, I mean most everyone else did fine. Back then they dealt with problem students differently. It was go out to the hall or go to the office and if you went to the office you almost always got a swat.

I made it to middle school. Now I have something new to fail — homework. Guess what? It’s not going to get done. Never took it home, and if I did leave with it I would hide it somewhere on the way home, like in a drainpipe. I lost more books that way.

Most of the time my grades were a D’s except in gym straight A’s,but on tests I could get an A or B, so I could pass. 8th grade didn’t go well. My new classroom was in the office. I was there almost everyday. 8th grade the second time was better. 9th grade was ok too. Learned a little bit about working the system.

High school, the beginning of the end. It started out okay. I needed better grades so I could wrestle I also took a drama class, that I loved. I tried out for a school play and got the part. It was going really well. The longer I went to wrestling practice, The harder it got. This is no place for a smoker,so being the quitter that I was I quit. I ended up getting sick and missed a couple of weeks of school. The extra work of trying to get caught up wasn’t worth it so I quit, notice a pattern? I tried to go back got up everyday and drove by the school just couldn’t turn left into the parking lot. By the time my class graduated I was married with a baby on the way.

From the time I dropped out till I was 25, I worked dead end jobs. Then at 25 I got a job in printing, a good job. I was there 21 years. While I was there, the job market changed, a High School diploma became almost mandatory .If you were lucky and knew someone you could still get an okay job. My next job lasted 7 years, In late 2008 I was laid-off. In Four months I only had two interviews. I had a number of calls but they all asked, DO YOU HAVE A HIGH SCHOOL DIPLOMA? I knew then I had to get my GED.

It had been 39 years since I was in school. I didn’t know how to study. How could I do this at 55?

I signed up for GED orientation. 30 hours minimum math, English, reading, science and social studies. Math and English were my problems I knew they would be, but this is how I passed. Instructors and tutors, the instructors charted a path. They had done this so many times before, that part of their job is easy. The hard part is building confidence in people who have dropped out or just given up. A few students were having a bad day just not getting it, The “IOD” instructor of the day threw her hands up and started pulling her hair. What’s that all about? Being pushed out the door I took the tests and passed. Now that I have passed I understand who I did this for, I did It for me.

At this time I would like to thank my wife and her 50000 volt cattle prod for getting me to sign up for my GED

I would love to thank the tutors, volunteers! I don`t know how many hours they give, I know most were there form 9:30 till 1:30 the days I was. Without these people this program cannot work, because there are so many people at so many different levels. So thank you so much.

My future: At 55 I`m going to continue my education here at JCCC. I`m going to take a business class to start with and see where it goes from there. This diploma is good, it`s not enough, you need some college today or you`re not going to get that good job you`re hoping for.

I came here to get a piece of paper now I want more. I still have dreams and the only thing stopping me is me, and I’m tired of getting in my way.

I live in a city of really quite extraordinary beauty. Cape Town, in South Africa, has to be one of the prettiest cities in the world – we have white beaches, blue seas, wide open skies, forests, zebras grazing along the side of the highway (really), and, of course, the mountain. Table Mountain. Little sister to which is Lion’s Head, one of the favourite hiking spots for Capetonians and visitors alike.

Since I moved here, a little over two years ago, I have heard people speak (in hushed tones) about the wonders of climbing Lion’s Head at full moon. “You can see the sun set and the moon rise… at the same time!” they said to me. “It’s extraordinary.”

But somehow each month’s full moon came and went. My man and I had other plans, or we were tired, or we were on holiday, and without really noticing, the months slid into each other and we never seemed to make the climb.

Until last Saturday.

Here was a night perfect for climbing a mountain by full moon. It was strangely warm for autumn, there was no wind, the night sky was poised for beauty. We kitted up and made sure we had supplies (tea in a flask, cookies for sustenance, water for hydration) and started climbing. Lion’s Head is a beautiful climb – steep, but rewarding, with indigenous flowers and plants all around, and the most amazing views out over the ocean. We saw the sun set in a blaze of red and orange, and shoot streaks across the sky. We chatted. We laughed. We panted. We took our time and soaked up the beauty.

What was so interesting, though, was that as my man and I were walking up the mountain, we kept being overtaken by people rushing to get to the top. They were so intent on reaching the top of the mountain in time to see the moon rise that they didn’t even glance out to their left or right at any of the surrounding beauty. They had to keep focused on the path ahead or they would trip and fall. There was no time for distractions.

Only, if a walk up a mountain on a Saturday evening doesn’t allow time for distractions, when does?

After about an hour of walking, we rounded a corner and there it was, in front of us. A giant full moon, rising over the city and casting its surreal glow over the mountain and all of us on it. On our left hand side the last of the colour was leaking out of the sunset, on our right the moon was pulling out all the stops. We weren’t at the top of the mountain, not anywhere near the top in fact, but we had a stunning view and we wanted to drink it in. So my man and I found a spot to sit, unpacked our goodies and had a little tea-and-cookies picnic while we watched the full moon continue to rise over the city. It was, as promised, extraordinary.

As we sat there, soaking in the extraordinary in an otherwise ordinary day, we saw all the people who had overtaken us on the way up the mountain rushing down it, again too intent on the path ahead to take note of the beauty all around them.

And it made me think about how often this happens in everyday life.

Our heads are so full of to-do lists, our minds so busy thinking about what needs to be done next, or what so-and-so said to us, or how much we wish we could be somewhere else, doing something else, that we don’t notice the beauty surrounding us. We are so intent on reaching the top of the mountain, by hook or by crook, that we don’t recognize the worth in taking life a little slower.

Yes, there are some mountains that need to be summited. But there are others that are placed in our lives merely for the challenge and adventure of it. Because we didn’t only come here to get things done. We came here for the living of some life… And if we happen to stumble across the extraordinary while we’re living it, so much the better.

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Bridget McNulty is a passionate writer inspired by why people act the way they do. Her first novel, Strange Nervous Laughter, has just been published in the USA. Find out more, listen to podcasts from the book, or watch the book trailer at www.bridgetmcnulty.com. Or join in the International First Love Day celebrations this Friday, the 15th of May.

Bridget is a guest writer for This Ordinary Day. If you would like to be a guest writer, please click here.

My mom said something the other day that threw me for a loop.

My brother Corey, his girlfriend Lesli, and I were at my parents’ for a cookout. We were sitting outside enjoying wine while Dad was grilling steaks.

I was telling everyone about Friday night at work when I was so stressed I thought I’d pop a vein over a proposal that was due early the next week. I had burst into tears at one point because of my frustration and Jan, a coworker, became alarmed (because I’m usually the happy one) and ran to get Corey because she was so baffled by my state of affairs.

Corey had taken one look at me, asked me what was wrong, and before I could blubber out an answer, threw on his jacket and walked out the door into a torrential downpour. It was after five o’ clock so I assumed he had plans, needed to get home. I didn’t think much of it.

But 15 minutes later, while I was trying to recover from my outburst and organize my materials a little, Corey returned from wherever he went. His hood was up, he was soaked, and he proudly thumped the biggest chocolate milkshake I had ever seen onto the counter. I froze, looking at him. He smiled really big.

“Burger King was out of milkshakes!” he cried. “How can they be out of milkshakes?! I had to go over to Arby’s!”

I laughed as I retold the story. Even Corey was still baffled that Burger King was out of ice cream. And of course his girlfriend that it was the sweetest thing ever that he did that for his little sister.

But my mom shook her head. She looked at Lesli and pointed at Corey: “Those two? Her brothers? They’ll do ANYTHING for her. I mean, ANYTHING. They won’t lift a finger for me and dad but whatever she wants, she gets.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but stopped, letting the statement sink in. Wow, she’s right, I thought. Not about getting whatever I want, but about my brothers.

This was interesting to ponder considering I genuinely hated both of them at one time in my life (and I’m positive they returned the sentiments). I hated Corey in high school because we were so incredibly different and…honestly…because he hated me. And I hated Kelly when he got old enough to tell on me.

So how did we get from pushing each other, tattling each other, smacking each other, name-calling each other…to looking out for each other? I remember so many times Corey bullied me and Kelly told on me…they ganged up on me…they left me out. But what used to be incredibly difficult relationships are now sometimes the easiest. They really do stick up for me. Kelly went from not liking me at all to sending me cookies at school and taking me out for coffee when he’s home from college. Corey went from despising me to buying me ice cream when I’m stressed.

The three of us now enjoy each other’s company (mostly). So yeah, Mom, I think you are right. But they don’t give me whatever I want. They give me what a sister needs…a brother’s love.