monday milk & honey: heaven in everyday moments at home

Sweeper (1737-1746) Edmé Bouchardon (French, 1698-1762)

The Practice of Presence in the Kitchen

Susanna Wesley understood something most of us miss entirely: heaven isn't only found in quiet sanctuaries or peaceful morning devotionals. This 18th-century mother of nineteen children (ten of whom survived to adulthood) discovered the divine presence in the midst of complete domestic chaos—something she knew intimately.

Born in 1669 to a minister father, Susanna was highly educated and deeply devout. But her life was anything but serene. Married to Samuel Wesley, an Anglican rector whose poor financial management kept the family in constant struggle, she managed a busy household, homeschooled all her children, survived a devastating house fire, and endured her husband's frequent absences. Yet it was precisely in this chaos that she developed her most profound spiritual practice.

When the noise and demands became overwhelming, Susanna would sit in her kitchen chair and pull her apron over her head. Her children learned that when mother's apron was up, she was praying—and they were not to disturb her. In those brief moments of self-created solitude, surrounded by the sounds of children and the work still waiting, she met with God. She didn't wait for perfect conditions. She sanctified the ordinary chaos of her everyday life.

What if the interruptions we endure—the constant demands, the never-ending tasks, the noise and clatter of our homes—are actually invitations to encounter God? Not someday when life calms down or when we finally have time for formal spiritual practices, but right now, apron over our heads, in the midst of our everyday rhythms.

This is the table revival we're longing for: not grander gatherings or more Pinterest-perfect presentations, but a rekindling of presence in the ordinary spaces we already inhabit. A return to seeing our kitchens and dining rooms as thin places where heaven touches earth, even when—especially when—they're messy and loud.

When the Mundane Becomes Transcendent

Kitchen Interior with Woman sweeping Willem Kalf (Dutch, 1619-1693)

I was unloading the dishwasher two Thursdays ago, mentally rehearsing my to-do list, when my youngest called from the other room asking “Mommy where is my shoe?”. Then my phone buzzed with a reminder that it was our turn to bring the snack for the soccer game on Saturday. Then I remembered I hadn't pulled anything out for dinner. The familiar tension started rising in my chest; that feeling of being pulled in seventeen directions at once.

Susanna came to mind. Apron over her head. Ten children and a struggling household and a husband who couldn't manage money. And she still found God right there, in the middle of it all.

I set the plate I was holding onto the counter, took a breath, and whispered, "Lord, You're here." The dishwasher still needed unloading. The shoe was still lost. Dinner still needed sorted. But a small reawakening to the truth that God wasn't waiting for me to get it all together before He would show up gimmered from my heart. He was already there, in the interruptions, in the mundane tasks, in the beautiful chaos of a life fully lived.

And if God meets me here, in my unfinished kitchen with lost shoes and forgotten snacks, couldn't He meet my guests here too? What if the table revival we're all longing for isn't about having it all together before we invite people in, but about opening our doors precisely in the middle of real life. Isn’t that where authentic community can actually take root?

This is what table revival looks like in real life. Not waiting for the perfect moment or the flawless execution, but recognizing that our tables-surrounded by the noise of real life, stacked with dishes that need washing, covered with homework and mail and the evidence of living-are already holy. They're already enough for gathering souls together. We're already enough to offer the gift of belonging.

The revival of edifying community doesn't require us to present a polished version of our lives. It requires us to be present-authentically, messily, generously.

Susanna Wesley would have understood. She discovered that when we bring our full attention to God's presence in the present moment-especially chaotic moments-we find Him already there, waiting to meet us. Not in the perfection of our preparations, but in the very act of showing up, apron and all.

Blessing the Tasks Before Us

As we move deeper into autumn, consider the ordinary tasks this season brings:

In the Kitchen: Before you begin meal preparation, pause—even if just for five seconds. You don't need silence or an empty house. Place your hands on the counter and breathe: "Lord, meet me here." Like Susanna in her kitchen chair, create a moment of presence right where you are. Transform chopping vegetables from a chore into an act of love, even if children are asking questions while you chop.

Setting the Table: As you place each plate (perhaps moving aside backpacks or art projects to make room), imagine you're preparing a seat at the heavenly banquet. Who will sit here? What burdens will they carry to your table? What joy will they bring? Let each fork and knife become a small prayer for their nourishment and comfort. The table doesn't have to be cleared perfectly. It just has to welcome perfectly. Real community forms around imperfect tables where people feel permission to bring their whole selves.

Tidying the Space: Rather than frantically cleaning before guests arrive, move through your home with Susanna's spirit of sanctifying the ordinary. As you straighten the pillows, thank God for rest. As you light the candles, thank Him for being the Light. As you open the door, thank Him for the gift of welcome. And when the doorbell rings before you've finished? Thank Him for the reminder that hospitality isn't about perfection.Iit's about making space for souls to be seen and known. That's the essence of edifying community: creating environments where people encounter both God's presence and genuine human connection.

Seasonal Preparations: Whether you're raking leaves while watching children play, bringing in the porch furniture between carpool runs, or sorting through summer items, invite God into the interruptions. These aren't distractions from your spiritual life-they are your spiritual life. Susanna taught us that we don't need to escape our ordinary tasks to find God; we need to recognize His presence within them.

The practice isn't about doing more. It's about being more present in what you're already doing. Susanna Wesley never escaped her chaotic household to find God. She learned to pull her apron over her head and recognize God's presence in the very midst of domestic demands.

This is the table revival our souls are hungry for: Not more elaborate gatherings, but more awareness. Not better skills, but better presence. Not waiting until we have it all together, but inviting others into the beautiful mess of our everyday lives where God is already gloriously present. Table revival is the restoration of edifying community. Creating tables where souls are nourished, burdens are shared, joy is multiplied, and we discover we're not alone in our beautiful, chaotic, ordinary lives.

A Prayer for Daily Presence

"And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." — Colossians 3:17

Gracious Father,

Forgive us for believing the lie that we must escape our ordinary lives to find You. Thank You for Susanna Wesley, who taught us that an apron over our heads in a noisy kitchen can become a cathedral of prayer.

Give us eyes to see that You are here in the interruptions, in the chaos, in the unfinished tasks and the never-ending demands. You are not waiting for us to get it all together. You are already present in the getting-it-together, in the falling-apart, in the ordinary mess of real life.

Slow our racing minds and quiet our anxious hearts. Let us fold the napkins with intention even when someone is tugging at our sleeve. Let us stir the soup with love even when the phone is ringing. Let us sweep the floors with gratitude even when we know they'll be dirty again by tomorrow.

When the chairs won't sit right and the lighting feels harsh, when our to-do lists loom and perfectionism whispers lies, when the doorbell rings before we're ready—remind us: You are already here. In the scratches on well-used tables, in the noise of people we love, in the very act of preparing to welcome others with all our beautiful imperfection.

Let our homes become what they were always meant to be—not showrooms of our competence, but foretastes of heaven where ordinary moments, interruptions included, shimmer with Your extraordinary presence.

May everything we do today be done in Your name and for Your glory, even (especially) the smallest, most interrupted, most mundane tasks.

In the precious name of Jesus,
Amen.

This week, I invite you to practice Susanna Wesley's presence in one everyday task. When the chaos rises and the demands come all at once, pause—breathe—and recognize: God is already here. You don't need perfect conditions. You just need to pull your apron over your head and notice.