When she woke up that morning, she was struck by how ordinary her life was. She reminded herself that she was really quite thankful that it was so ordinary—no catastrophic illnesses, G‑d forbid, to face like others in the community; no one was out of a job, and there was enough income to pay for all the day-to-day necessities, and even a bit for specials, like a take-out meal or new pair of shoes, or an extra outfit for one of the grandchildren.

Part of her liked the safe feeling of being so ordinaryHer closet was full—but everything that hung there was either black or a muted color that would blend with black. She felt so dull, so ordinary, so uninteresting. As she went about her morning routine—making the coffee, emptying the dishwasher, making sure her son was up on time for carpool—she started to think about dinner. Taking some ground meat out of the freezer to defrost, the prospect of the meatloaf that would eventually be served that evening just seemed to compound the ordinariness of her life.

Part of her liked the safe feeling of being so ordinary. It required much less effort on her part, since there was no need to "wow" people with her dress, accessories or pizzazz. She did ordinary things with her day—working in an office, taking care of her family, spending time on a needlepoint, reading books. She was simply ordinary.

Her husband did not think she was ordinary at all. He saw her as an amazing creature—she could multi-task in a way that he could only watch with astonishment. She made it seem effortless to be helping someone with homework at the same time as making some elaborate dish for Shabbat, at the same time as answering an inquiry on the phone from someone who needed her expertise on one thing or another.

Her children did not think she was ordinary, either. She knew how to make the hurts go away, find the answer to the question on the Torah portion, get to the library for the science fair, and make everything always seem so easy. She could break into song to wake them up in the morning, and stay with them in the dead of night to ward away the fear of a bad dream.

But most of all, her grandchildren did not think she was ordinary. She would hold them, and sing to them, and dance with them in the middle of the day. She would talk to them on the phone, and seem to understand when they told her in secret that their sister annoyed them. She would not laugh at them, and she always snuck a treat to them when their parents were not looking.

Her friends did not think she was ordinary. They could not understand how she managed to find time on Friday afternoons to sit and read or study, because the table was all set and the food was all prepared, while they were still running to make it to Shabbat in time. They marveled at her intelligence and wit and her acceptance of all things that came her way as being the will of G‑d.

When the car skidded into hers, all sense of ordinary went out of her lifeHer ordinary day continued in its ordinary way. When the car skidded into hers, all sense of ordinary went out of her life. She was lucky—a few broken bones in her back, some bruising, but she came out of it with everything more or less intact.

In the weeks that followed, as she convalesced, she saw how out of the ordinary she really was. Her husband needed lessons in the most basic of things—how to run the washing machine, load a dishwasher, and what time to wake up the kids. And he could only do one thing at a time!

Her friends called, shopped and cooked for her. They were so amazing, she never realized how special these relationships were, and how out of the ordinary her friends were.

Her children worked hard at showing her how independent they could be. They cleaned their rooms, and brought in their schoolwork, proud of having completed their papers with only a little bit of help.

Her grandchildren's calls made her realize how very un-ordinary she really was. How grateful she was as she hung up the phone with a smile on her face, after hearing about a young child's adventure that day, that she had been blessed with such an ordinary life.

Her closet still had the same black skirts and her life continued in its ordinary way. But each day when she woke up, she smiled and thanked G‑d for her very unordinary ordinary life.