If Average Is Just OK, Why Am I So Happy?

I spent my Saturday night folding laundry. It was as exciting as it sounds. 

I poured myself a glass of week-old wine I found in the back of the refrigerator, (the cheap kind from Target, is there any other kind?) turned on one of my favorite Pandora stations and started folding.

We were behind about eight loads, maybe ten. It’s hard to tell when the pile is overflowing onto the floor. 

I folded tiny socks, and hand-me-down onesies. Wrinkled t-shirts (because the pile had been there a while) and little girl jeans. My husband’s basketball jersey (the one he wears each Sunday night in a local rec league) and Christmas jammies from last season. 

You get the picture.

Half-way through the 10-pile load, I smiled and thanked God for this average life. 

We live in an average house, in an average state. The nearest ocean is hours away. (And by hours, I mean more than a day’s drive.)

We have average student loans. We have debt from a couple of average cars. We rarely take vacations and consider a good date night to be a movie at home. 

We’re just average. 

My life wouldn’t be the plot of some exciting Hollywood film, you know? There isn’t a lot of drama (good or bad). I’m just an old farm girl from Nebraska and my husband is a former city boy (also from Nebraska). Together, we’re raising three pretty great kids. 

Our routines are average. 

On weekdays we wake up, send the kids to school, drop off the baby at daycare and head to work. Then we spend a night doing homework, or driving kids to activities. Sometimes we eat at the table. Many times, we eat something from a box. 

On Saturdays, we usually visit family.

And on Sundays we go to church.

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Our story isn’t glamourous, it’s just… average.

But if average is just OK, why am I so happy?

If average is society’s way of saying, “not great” why do I feel like the luckiest girl in the world?

Average to the naked eye, can sometimes mean boring or unhappy.

But average in my home means so much more.

It means I get to say “good morning” to three healthy, beautiful kids, a black cat, one crayfish and one very handsome man.

It means I get to drive an old car to a safe daycare and walk my kids into a school with great teachers and staff who care for them like their own.

It means we have enough money each month to live in a warm home and put food on a plate and some wrinkled clothes on our backs.

It means I am free to love God and help spread His word. 

The world needs to know that average is so much more. 

The world needs to know that average is where dreams are made. 

Maybe you need that reminder, too. Maybe you feel stuck in your everyday routine. Look closer, friends. Average is where the good stuff lives. I have a feeling your average is more incredible than you may know.