In the liturgical calendar, Ordinary Time is when it isn’t Christmas and isn’t Easter. The priest wears simple green vestments. There are no wreaths and no ashes.

It’s also a time of miracles: of water turned to wine; of the blind who see and the lame who walk. Anything but ordinary.

Here at the house, ordinary time began Saturday, when I removed the Christmas wreath and hung up the little basket that serves as a door ornament at less festive times of year.

Ordinary time. Nothing special. But everything wondrous.