It's the Little Things
As my faithful readers undoubtedly know, I am a porch-sitter. My porch is where I sit and watch the sunrise, express my gratitudes, speak my prayers, and think my thoughts. And the thought that came to me this particular morning, watching the backlit beauty of sprinkler droplets and marveling at the tiny, perfect swirl of a jasmine blossom was this: “It’s the little things.”
THE COMFY
A few weeks ago we celebrated my daughter’s 14th birthday. For her gift, we gave her what she asked for: a picnic dinner under strings of white lights and a giant, pink “Comfy.” (For those of you who, blissfully, have never heard of it, a Comfy is a plush, hooded, oversized pullover in which one could easily fit two to three average sized adults. It’s ridiculously enormous, the ultimate “as-seen-on-TV” purchase, and it’s exactly as described: comfy. I want one.)Being playful and in the spirit of the moment, I climbed into the Comfy and sprinted to the backyard, daughter in chase, both of us laughing. Unfortunately (and I will blame the Comfy for blocking my view and not the sake which I had consumed with our sushi dinner), I tripped on the step leading to the patio, rolled my foot under itself and landed, stiff-armed, on the paver patio, moaning and balled up in pain.
SLOWING IT DOWN
Now, I know for a fact that my loving family did not really grasp or perhaps believe that it hurt as much as it did, so I was perversely gratified when, the following day, my foot swelled grotesquely in hues of purple and blue. (“See???”) Not broken, but with a severely sprained big toe and a cadre of unhappy little toes, I couldn’t walk much or easily for three weeks. For someone who values her morning walks as a means of maintaining a semblance of sanity and emotional well-being, this is huge. The big toe is, I have discovered, a big deal.It’s the little things — like big toes (and microscopic viruses) — that seem to trip us up and slow us down. But it’s also the little things that can restore our faith, feed our souls and lift our spirits. Being slowed, or even completely stopped, presents the opportunity to tune into these little things: the scent of jasmine blowing in through my office window on a sublime, summer breeze; my son calling me to come look at the moon rising over the pine trees; witnessing the comings and goings of an iridescent blue-black bug, the size of a grain of rice, going about his day amongst my potato plants. Miracles all.
LITTLE IS BIG
The little things, both delightful and difficult, are really the big things. Honoring them as such is what helps us be balanced and whole. It’s the little things that, when recognized and respected, can quietly transform a life. By becoming present and receptive to the subtle and small, life is suddenly no longer a freeway race from birth to death; instead, it becomes a backroad exploration with multiple stops to take in the sights. And, in the end, what exactly are we racing toward, anyway?This much I know for sure: When I do arrive at The End, I won’t be thinking about my bank account, or that not-so-nice neighbor, or my falling-down garage. I’ll be thinking about my baby boy, sitting in his crib on an exultant April morning. I’ll be remembering the sound of my daughter’s little voice telling me good night and the feeling of my Golden Retriever’s soft ears and the time my husband took my hand to dance with me in the kitchen. And while I may or may not remember spraining my toe, I’ll definitely remember the feeling of unfettered joy that is time with my children.Now more than ever, it’s the little things that serve to make life sweet and meaningful. The little things really are the big things. I invite you to appreciate yours and, as they say, enjoy the journey.
