There's a description in Robert Benson's Living Prayer about the "artist, perched somewhere between the marketplace and the marvelous."

I like to think I'm an artist. Because I write, I can call myself a writer, whether I ever have a bound book on a shelf or not. For what is a writer, if not one who writes?

And what is one who writes, if not one who perches above the minutiae of life to see what might not be seen if one is not thinking to look?

Given a bird's-eye view of my life on any given Monday, you would see a rush of activity, a conglomeration of cooking, teaching, writing, cleaning, shopping, reading, and more. There is very little sitting and resting, for the body or the mind. I mostly enjoy it, though.

This isn't an all-inclusive list of my day today, but take a peek, if you will.

I slept thirty minutes past my alarm.

I journaled for ten minutes (after not journaling in months).

I rebounded for fifteen minutes.

I listened to Justin Timberlake's "Can't Stop the Feeling" twice and Taylor Swift's "New Romantics" once while jumping.

I charged my iPod Nano.

I cooked bacon and eggs.

I drank bulletproof coffee and ate No-Bake Chocolate Almond Oat Bars (instead of bacon and eggs).

I practiced a new verse from Colossians with the kids during breakfast.

I washed my hair and shaved my legs.

I cleaned two bathrooms plus an extra toilet (the boys cleaned their own sinks, countertop, and mirrors).

I reviewed poetry and fact cards with Cash.

I took Sailor and Penny on a tiny walk outside to put three letters in the mailbox and to raise the red flag.

I picked seven figs.

I helped Story with her copywork.

I used up the leftover rotisserie chicken from Saturday by making a chicken sandwich for Cash's lunch and chicken salad for TJ's.

I made two different batches of smoothie: Hidden Greens Protein Smoothie for me, Cash, and Sailor, and Blueberry-Banana Smoothie for TJ, Bauer, and Story.

I read aloud to the kids Chapter 4 from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

I checked Bauer's math problems.

I sat outside for ten minutes in the blazing hot sunshine and closed my eyes to rest.

I read today's Hosea reading on the She Reads Truth app on my phone.

I texted my friend Kristy.

I bought a 13-pocket expandable file for receipts at Walmart.

I ran into my neighbor Amy on the file aisle at Walmart - the exact neighbor I had on my list to text later today about something.

I used the self checkout at Walmart.

I ate three figs.

I rebounded for ten more minutes.

I listened to Coldplay's "Birds," "Adventures of a Lifetime," and "Fun."

I got sweaty pits and reapplied coconut oil deodorant, which I'm trying to like.

I started this blog post while putting away groceries and making dinner (and being thankful that Nana is here to help with the kids).

I made Bauer's favorite meal for dinner - BBQ Tofu with Cajun Rice.

I packed three containers of leftovers for Bauer's lunches the next three days.

I put tea tree oil and a Batman bandaid on the wart on Story's hand.

I read two board books - The Swing and The Bunny Hop - to Sailor before putting her to bed.

I made No-Bake Chocolate Almond Oatmeal Bars for tomorrow's breakfast.

I ate watermelon for a snack.

And I finished this blog post.

It's okay if my minutiae doesn't resonate with you. I really just wanted to get you thinking about your own. Do you realize what you're doing? Will you perch above your life and look? Are you caught up in the marketplace of buying, baking, bustling around? That's okay because that is what it takes.

But that is not all that is available to us. The marvelous, ironically, often makes a quiet entrance, not demanding our attention at all. It might be in the dirty-becoming-clean bathroom, or in the clean-becoming-dirty children. It is likely in both. It is closer than we think, and we probably miss a good deal of it, mistaking it for the marketplace category. But if we look for it and we hope for it, we might learn to see the marvelous right in the middle of the Monday minutiae.