Liturgies

Liturgy is a noun that refers to the prescribed form of public worship as set down in the Book of Common Prayer, for instance, or any book or order of worship designed by any denomination. 
Liturgy is a way of doing things.  An order, made with conscious design, to get us together and keep us together as we worship. 
I find that many aspects of my life besides church can be bound by liturgies of their own.  Certainly, having a set order to things that need to be done regularly is comforting, and often helpful.  My daily lesson plans were in effect a liturgy for the conduct of the school day.  Things go in a certain order for a specific reason, are done a certain way, with certain words, to keep the lesson consistent, and in part, to comfort the children. 
Liturgies are comforting.  You know what to expect and when it's coming up.  They have the disadvantage of letting your brain coast on occasion, and you really shouldn't be doing that in church, the idea is to focus on worship.  Same with the lessons at school.  If we got too routine, the kids could respond while half asleep, and that isn't doing their minds any favors.  So, for different days and seasons, liturgies change.  Just often enough to keep you on your toes and paying attention.  A response may be different, the order changed just a little, just enough to keep you from getting TOO comfortable.
Daily life is a whole series of little routines that could become liturgy, if we use them as a way to be grateful for the little things we need that are provided for us daily.  If you have children, and/or pets, you know the importance of routine and order, and the strict adherence thereto, in getting anything accomplished, especially in the morning. 
At our house, we have the liturgy of the Cat in the Morning.  She must get up and get under Matthew's feet as he is getting dressed, just to keep his coordination sharp.  She must then see that he gets out the door and off to work on time.   Then she must make sure I am up, and the bed is made, so that she can have her breakfast.  After that, she makes sure I leave for my walk, and then goes to take her morning nap.  Having to work around the cat's liturgy of gratitude for her people and her food gives me a set order of things to accomplish while still half asleep, and serves to get me out of bed, and thinking about the day ahead, and about the nature of life, the universe, and everything.  
When I taught school, daily routines were the glue that held our collective sanity together.  Taking roll, saying the pledge, going over the day's seat work assignments, making sure homework was collected, taking the lunch count, these things got us together and started on our day.  They got us focused on the learning to come. 
Those common experiences, those routines, or liturgies, cemented us together as a community in school, in our homes, and in our places of worship.  There is an old joke I always think of when I muse about liturgy:  How do you find the Episcopalians in a Star Wars movie?  Anytime somebody says "May the Force be with you." they respond "And also with you!" 
Our responses are comforting and familiar.  (Though those of us who do Rite I will say "And with thy spirit.")  The Pledge of Allegiance is comforting to some people because it is something they learned in childhood, something they, and everyone they went to school with knows by heart.  It is common to them, even if they have nothing else in common.  Psalm 23 is something that is very familiar to many Christians and Jews as well.  It has been memorized by many, and is a source of comfort.  It is something those who know it have and cherish in common. These things bind us together and comfort us.
If we look at our daily routines with an eye toward gratitude for all we are fortunate enough to have, they can become liturgies, our lives can become worship even in the smallest details.  If we look at our interactions as a community, whether at work, worship, or school, we can make all those occasions a prayer of gratitude for our shared lives, for the knowledge that we are all in this together, all coming at life from different angles, but all of us here, and not knowing how long, and trying to make the best of it.