Many Little Things
Today was a day of great fluidity. The time passed by without the hours marked by beginnings and ends of assignments or deadlines. It was a Saturday in its freest form, a day that remains untamed by schedule or expectation. I moved through this eddying expanse of free time at my own pace - however fast I'm motivated to be. I woke when my body could sleep no more, I ate when I was hungry. My attention slipped and then caught again on the tasks I set in my path much like our van tires did on the black ice we encountered driving to work this week. In the back of my mind there's an itch to do something grand and wonderful with this blessed time, but really there's nothing I'd rather be occupied with than sitting here on my couch, my patient journal beside me waiting for me to continue my entries where I left off two weeks ago, a candle burning, a half full mug of black tea on the side table along with a to do list half crossed off with things I should have done last week, and nothing planned for the next four hours.
It's glorious days like this though that make "What did you do yesterday?" questions unfortunate, because, really, I didn't do much of anything spectacular, maybe I got my laundry folded and a few emails sent. I could've done something worth remembrance (concurrently, something worth journalling about), but I didn't, because I'm lazy. What a waste.
This mentality often dominates my attitude towards slow mornings, my precious break hours, or unproductive evenings. "I should be more busy, make better use of my precious time." But, the busier I make myself, the more precious the quiet, still, lazy times become. If business is the only thing of worth, this chrono-economic shift to the valuing of unstructured time doesn't make much sense. Down time must have some inherent value to life.
I've written about stillness before in Reflections on a Busy Week, where I noted that times of nothing were necessary for me to develop thoughts in depth. This thought came to me in my Saturday of nothing - it's the little things that hold life together.
This idea goes against my view that my time must be used for big things, important things, but it also conflicts with my old love of deep conversation. I relish long, intense conversations about the implications of the world to divinity, about politics and Jesus encounters. Now, as texting, letters and occasional phone calls supplant my communication with my friends and family, those conversations have fallen away. Now, the fabric of friendship is stretched across many miles, and is being tested. Any communication at all just reinforces the straining stitches, we're working, fighting to remain invested. It's the little things that hold us together, just the asking of how a day is, just a one snap sent every once and a while to bind our lives together. Again I quote Amy's wall when I write, "Friendship is not one big thing, it's many little things."
In the churches we are a part of, I've seen them lamenting over their inability to accomplish big things for God. When we visit, though, we are touched by the small things - their love, their loyalty to each other, the years of working to know God by each others' side, their generosity year after year to our program, their in and out everyday kindness. The church too is made up of immeasurable small things.
Our characters themselves are made of small things, the small actions that define us. Every second of every day we choose who we become. In fact, the attitude we choose to practice in dealing with small things, all those moments when a little impatience, a little rudeness, a little neglect, doesn't seem to matter, infiltrates our true character. When the big moments come, we are only prepared to respond in the way we've trained ourselves.
In this way also, any work that seems insignificant actually can make up a legacy of small acts. If one strives to do every work to the best of their ability to "sweep streets even as a Michaelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry" as Dr. King once said, then any work can glorify God. As I serve, I think on these things, that the world depends on these small acts, all working together. Someone has to clean public bathrooms, write up long pages of paperwork, truck food, clean out sewers, sort mail, or flip burgers so that someone else can write books, draft bills for social reform, teach children, pastor congregations, or cure cancer. Our high reaching society is built on the small things.
Life is built on the small things, folding laundry, picking up clutter off the floor, completing chores, cooking supper, running errands. Life couldn't go on without those lazy, hardly noteworthy Saturdays nor could relationships be built without the persistent, intentional motions toward friendship, neither could the kingdom progress if there weren't churches willing to be faithful through years of community building or people willing to work the gospel into the everyday integrity and grace of their service and hard working that's largely missed. Just as a mountain is made of pebbles, a puzzle of many pieces, a movement of many voices, a body of many members, life is made of the small things.
It's glorious days like this though that make "What did you do yesterday?" questions unfortunate, because, really, I didn't do much of anything spectacular, maybe I got my laundry folded and a few emails sent. I could've done something worth remembrance (concurrently, something worth journalling about), but I didn't, because I'm lazy. What a waste.
This mentality often dominates my attitude towards slow mornings, my precious break hours, or unproductive evenings. "I should be more busy, make better use of my precious time." But, the busier I make myself, the more precious the quiet, still, lazy times become. If business is the only thing of worth, this chrono-economic shift to the valuing of unstructured time doesn't make much sense. Down time must have some inherent value to life.
 |
| Somerset Street with a sunrise Photo Cred: Evan (Yes, I stole this off your Facebook page) |
This idea goes against my view that my time must be used for big things, important things, but it also conflicts with my old love of deep conversation. I relish long, intense conversations about the implications of the world to divinity, about politics and Jesus encounters. Now, as texting, letters and occasional phone calls supplant my communication with my friends and family, those conversations have fallen away. Now, the fabric of friendship is stretched across many miles, and is being tested. Any communication at all just reinforces the straining stitches, we're working, fighting to remain invested. It's the little things that hold us together, just the asking of how a day is, just a one snap sent every once and a while to bind our lives together. Again I quote Amy's wall when I write, "Friendship is not one big thing, it's many little things."
In the churches we are a part of, I've seen them lamenting over their inability to accomplish big things for God. When we visit, though, we are touched by the small things - their love, their loyalty to each other, the years of working to know God by each others' side, their generosity year after year to our program, their in and out everyday kindness. The church too is made up of immeasurable small things.
 |
| Eating out (for once!) in Pittsburgh From Left: Krista, Abby, Leah, Jonathan, Eva, Me, Evan |
Our characters themselves are made of small things, the small actions that define us. Every second of every day we choose who we become. In fact, the attitude we choose to practice in dealing with small things, all those moments when a little impatience, a little rudeness, a little neglect, doesn't seem to matter, infiltrates our true character. When the big moments come, we are only prepared to respond in the way we've trained ourselves.
In this way also, any work that seems insignificant actually can make up a legacy of small acts. If one strives to do every work to the best of their ability to "sweep streets even as a Michaelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry" as Dr. King once said, then any work can glorify God. As I serve, I think on these things, that the world depends on these small acts, all working together. Someone has to clean public bathrooms, write up long pages of paperwork, truck food, clean out sewers, sort mail, or flip burgers so that someone else can write books, draft bills for social reform, teach children, pastor congregations, or cure cancer. Our high reaching society is built on the small things.
Life is built on the small things, folding laundry, picking up clutter off the floor, completing chores, cooking supper, running errands. Life couldn't go on without those lazy, hardly noteworthy Saturdays nor could relationships be built without the persistent, intentional motions toward friendship, neither could the kingdom progress if there weren't churches willing to be faithful through years of community building or people willing to work the gospel into the everyday integrity and grace of their service and hard working that's largely missed. Just as a mountain is made of pebbles, a puzzle of many pieces, a movement of many voices, a body of many members, life is made of the small things.
“Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” - Mother Teresa
Comments
Post a Comment