The year was 1943. My grandparents were married only a few months when my grandfather joined the Army to fight in WWII.
Over the course of that year, my grandfather would travel to bases in VA and GA to complete his training before heading overseas to Europe where he would eventually receive orders to head to the beaches of Normandy in June of the following year. A technical problem would delay him by a day or two, protecting his life and ultimately, that of my own. For my grandmother, the year of 1943 was a year of waiting. Waiting for letters from my grandfather, waiting to hear where he was and what he was doing, and like the rest of the nation, waiting for the war to end.
I know all this because when I visited my parents this summer, my dad gave me my grandmother’s diary from 1943. It’s small and fits in the palm of my hand. Rather than a journal used to document one’s thoughts and feelings, this diary was used to jot down the events of the day. My grandmother did just that, writing down what she did each day the year of 1943. And what stood out to me the most is the mundane nature of life, even in the midst of war, even while waiting for news from my grandfather. Mundane things like: cooking, cleaning, and ironing, walking down to the country store for groceries (they didn’t own a car and even after they did, my grandmother never learned to drive), going to the beauty parlor, visiting with family and friends, worshipping at church, and signing up new Army recruits at the local schoolhouse.
And writing letters each day to my grandfather—many of which we still have.
As I read through the diary, through the lists of tasks and activities accomplished each day, it reminded me how much of life is filled with mundane duties and tasks. Everyday things. Errands and chores. Necessary duties of life.
Even while waiting. Even in the midst of crisis.
I tend to freeze in the face of uncertainty. I tend to push pause until I know what the future holds. I tend to zero in on the crisis and forget everything else. But life is made up of daily acts of faithfulness. Of doing what needs to be done. Of living out our callings each day. We don’t know what the future holds. We are called to glorify God this day. We are called to live for him and his glory in all that we do, even in the daily, everyday activities of life (1 Cor. 10:31, Col. 3:17).
In the spring of 1943, my grandmother wrote that she planted a garden in the yard. Growing up, my grandparents always had a garden. To this day, the best watermelon I’ve tasted came from their backyard. The act of planting a garden is one of sowing seeds of hope. The gardener does not know what will come of those seeds. She does not even know if she will be there come the harvest. She plants them anyway and each day tends to that garden. Whatever the weather or circumstances, she waters and pulls weeds and checks for harmful insects. In our own lives, we too need to till the soil of life, plant seeds, water them, and wait for God to produce the fruit. Whether we are looking for a job, laboring for restoration in a relationship, or praying for a crisis to come to an end, we need to do the daily work of life—all to the glorify God.
My grandmother’s little journal from 1943 challenged me in 2020 to remember that whatever I am waiting for, whatever the unknown future holds, whatever crisis surrounds me, I need to continue forward, doing the next thing, for the glory of God.
