Salt.

It has a way of indulging us in the simple things. Things that punch through our monotony. Things that make our senses real and alive.

Things like watermelon, a bath tub, a steak and an ocean soak are best with a tiny grain having much meaning: salt. It's as ordinary as the girl holding the umbrella and it always pours too fast from the spout. The irony of flavorless salt the Word makes perfectly clear: it is good for nothing because its meant for everything.

From Matthew 5...

"You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men."

Ordinary means in every way, important, in terms of objects and individuals. Water is ordinary and water is life. People are commonplace while they are also eternal. This makes for a miracle in even the easiest people to ignore. C.S. Lewis put it this way:

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations — these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit— immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.

Perpective is necessary when being the salt of the earth starts to get boring, or when we marinate too much our own ideas and opinions and the rest of the world starts looking bland. Then we've lost flavor. Then the banality of selfishness and the ugliness of narcissism appear. If ordinary is good enough for God to use, then we all have plenty to bring to the table.