Breakfast as a Devotional

I used to think ceremony required candles, intention, the right words spoken at the right time. That being devotional required a kind of spiritual choreography.

One morning, making breakfast for my kids on a Saturday morning, I stood there thinking about devotion and ceremony. And while I thought I stood there with the sound of bacon grease popping in the pan, the smell filling the house. The sound of my children chatting while they waited for food, perched on the counter next to the sink. The smell of coffee brewing, morning light moving across the kitchen ever so slowly.

And it began to occur to me, that this too is a ceremony. Attention given to what matters, a practice of presence, repeated with devotion.

I am feeding the people I love. I am welcoming the morning. I am fully present for a moment that will never arrive quite this way again.

The bacon goes onto their plates, butter softens into warm toast. We sit together in the early morning light, dishes lightly clinking together.

There is no special ceremonial process, no perfectly held prayer or intention.

Just this: showing up, paying attention. Allowing the ordinary moments we’re tempted to rush past or dismiss to reveal themselves as the substance of life.

Your regular morning doesn’t need to become more spiritual or more meaningful.
It already is.