Joy in the mundane: Reflections from the domestic church
- Victoria Cardona
- 3 minutes ago
- 5 min read
I used to rush through chores — laundry, dishes, tidying corners day after day — just to get to the “real” part of my spiritual life: journaling and praying in the chapel. I didn’t realize that God was already speaking to me in the quiet, repetitive work I was eager to be done with.
It’s during those busy weeks when laundry piles up, dishes are stacked high in the sink, and a grocery list is half-formed, that I suddenly feel the presence of Christ. As I spend my days doing laundry and helping my mom prepare meals, I’m pouring myself out to Jesus, because he is here and he has called me here. How heartbreaking would it be to get to heaven and look back and see all the ordinary moments I rushed through, when Christ was standing quietly by, designing my daily tasks to be an opportunity for communion with him?
This moment of quiet clarity shifted something deep in me. I stopped seeing these tasks as interruptions to my spiritual life; rather, they were my spiritual life. These small tasks, “chores” as one might call them, had become part of my offering to God.
I had found the domestic church right where I was, and my mundane tasks had become a liturgy, my sweet-smelling offering to Christ the King.
I stopped seeing these tasks as interruptions to my spiritual life; rather, they were my spiritual life.
Holy ground in the everyday
This revelation opened my eyes to a deeper truth: that holiness is not confined to chapels or mission fields. As Catholic women, we have a unique vocation. Whether you are single in college, married with five kids, or somewhere in between, the home is the domestic Church. Our mundane responsibilities are not lesser than those of a woman who works a corporate job, as the world tells us. We may not all be called to cloisters or missions, but we are all called to love deeply, daily, and sacrificially.
The Church has always taught that the physical matters. From the Incarnation to the sacraments, God chose to use the material world to reveal who he is. This means that our stoves, our laundry baskets, our kitchen tables, all the places of daily life matter. When we work with intentional love, these tasks become places of communion. They are not obstacles to holiness but vessels of it. When we surrender our routines to Christ, the smallest acts can become moments for prayer.
Jesus offers us his presence
As we see in Scripture, Jesus does not give his followers a pass from life’s demands. He offers them a better way to shoulder the challenges of life: by abiding in Jesus himself. I often think of the story of Mary and Martha. Martha gets a bad reputation for being too focused on the many tasks at hand, but Jesus does not rebuke her for working. He invites her to work from a place of rest, to have a heart rooted in his presence. Jesus invites us to this as well. We don’t need to stop serving or put a halt to our work; we just need to serve with him.
What if we flipped our perspective? What if instead of living in dread or anxiety about our daily tasks, we worked from a place of anticipation of encountering Jesus, honored that he has called us to such holy work? Christ blesses us in the physical spaces we occupy with his presence. The Holy Spirit, poured into our hearts, dignifies every task we offer in love.
Instead of thinking, “I don’t need to do the dishes; I deserve a break,” pray, Jesus, you’ve called me here to pour out for you.
Instead of thinking, “I’m too tired to do laundry,” pray, Jesus, I don’t want to miss a chance to worship you.
Instead of thinking, “I am too busy to pray,” pray, Lord, where you call me, you meet me.
It is easy to forget just how powerful the physical is. Yet the ability to steward these physical tasks and responsibilities, which impact every other area of our lives, is in our control. The physical and the spiritual matter — when we steward one, we bless the other. This is where the hidden beauty of ordinary life begins to shine.
Small acts, great love
St. Thérèse of Lisieux understood this deeply. Her “little way” teaches us that the smallest acts, when done with great love, have eternal value. Washing dishes, sweeping the floors, and organizing a closet all lead to sanctification. Holiness is not about extraordinary works. It’s about offering our ordinary lives to God, repeatedly. Sometimes I think holiness needs to look exactly like St. Joan of Arc or be achieved through radical sacrifices. But then I see it in my mom’s quiet endurance, in my roommate’s joyful service to her friends, and in a college student’s courageous testimony. Each of us is called to build the kingdom of heaven one act of faithfulness at a time.
This is how we can close the gap between faith and daily life. We declare that the Lord is here: in our routines, in our homes, in our weary hands. We’re not meant to escape what is “ordinary” but to infuse it with heaven.
A culture that forgets the sacred
The world today tells us success is fast, loud, and visible. But God often works in the slow, the quiet, and the hidden. Society worships productivity and self-promotion, and although being productive is not a negative thing, God invites us to become women who worship in hidden spaces.
When we allow Christ into our daily lives, we push against a culture that says these things don’t matter. This is how we can close the gap between faith and daily life. We declare that the Lord is here: in our routines, in our homes, in our weary hands. We’re not meant to escape what is “ordinary” but to infuse it with heaven.
Prepare for the Sabbath
It’s in the simple, everyday moments that we learn to notice and appreciate the extraordinary moments in our lives. Every time we go to Mass, we are stepping into something sacred — a taste of heaven right here on earth. But let’s be honest, how often do we treat worship like just another thing on the to-do list?
As Sunday approaches, consider how you can prepare for a joyful Sabbath. Doing the hard or inconvenient things, like paying lingering bills or cleaning the kitchen, can now become a form of worship, helping us to enter more deeply into the fullest expression of our worship found in the holy Mass. Our work is a gift we offer in anticipation of the Lord’s day, saying, “Lord, I will prepare a place for You.” Set yourself up for an awesome, life-giving Sabbath this Sunday by doing the things that you have been putting off, choosing to make those, too, acts of worship.
It’s up to you.
You can rush through it, or you can savor the presence of Jesus in all that you do. Jesus is not just in a church pew or chapel. He is next to us when we are folding socks and scrubbing pots and pans. He is with us when we pay our taxes and near us when we choose peace amid a noisy home.
Let your ordinary life be your altar and your work lead you to the Mass.
Let it all be worship.