The Sacred Art of Doing Dishes

Spirituality doesn’t always arrive in silence or ceremony. Sometimes it’s hiding in the sunlight on your kitchen counter, the warmth of your coffee, or the small grace of being alive in the middle of it all.

5/8/20242 min read

The Sacred Art of Doing the Dishes

(Finding spirituality in the everyday)

Some mornings, I’m convinced the universe is speaking to me—only to realize it’s the dishwasher beeping again.

And yet… maybe that’s part of it.
Maybe the spiritual life isn’t about escaping chores or noise, but finding the thread of gratitude and awareness running quietly underneath it all.

The hidden holiness of the ordinary

We spend so much of life doing the things that never seem done: dishes, emails, errands, laundry, and appointments. And somewhere between “I should stretch more” and “did I remember to defrost the chicken?”, it’s easy to forget that being alive—just being here—is a miracle.

Maybe spirituality isn’t something we add to our to-do list. Maybe it’s what shows up when we pause for half a breath in the middle of it.

That little moment when sunlight lands on your kitchen counter just right.
When your dog greets you like you’re the best human on Earth.
When your body—imperfect, busy, tired—still carries you through another day.

Nature as reminder

The trees outside don’t seem to rush. The wind doesn’t apologize for changing directions. There’s a rhythm to the world that’s slower than ours, and sometimes the kindest thing we can do is match it for a minute.

Step outside.
Breathe.
Feel your heart beat, your lungs expand.
That’s prayer, too.

Gratitude that doesn’t require perfection

Gratitude isn’t reserved for people who have it all together—it’s the quiet acknowledgment that, despite the mess, we still have what matters most: breath, relationships, a bit of sunlight, maybe even a dishwasher that works (most days).

A short prayer for today

Spirit of Life, thank you for the ordinary moments that make up this extraordinary gift of being alive.
For health that allows us to move, for love that keeps us grounded, and for the small joys that remind us we belong to something bigger than ourselves.
Help us find You in the daily work, and remember: even the smallest pause can be holy.
Amen.