We gather around the T-shaped Sunday School tables, and she tells us about the time the lady next door decided to burn papers just as the wind picked up. But before long, the fire escapes its confines and surrounds the house.
She calls the fire department and runs next door to rescue the children, but instead the neighbor wants her to help fight the flames. To carry cups of water from the kitchen sink and spill them on the hot tongues that lick at the door.
So against her own better judgment, she listens to the neighbor’s need and to the Spirit’s whisper and runs back and forth until the fire trucks arrive.
And wonders all the while how these small cups of water can make any difference at all.
When the fire is finally out, the neighbor gushes her thanks.
Small cup by small cup.
We’re talking about the poor, really, and I don’t remember what triggered her to tell this story–except perhaps in the context of listening to another’s need instead of whooshing in with our own agenda.
But I think how easy it is for us to avoid doing anything at all because we wonder how our small cup can make any difference. And how big a splash does my $35 sent to one child on the other side of the world make in the fire of poverty anyway?
Small cup by small cup.
Because even a small word or act can have a big impact.
And one moment in time can change a lifetime.
The wind blows hard this morning, and I dodge a small thing–and almost make a big impact as I twist my ankle in the process.
Pink confetti swirls and settles at the edge of the concrete, edges it all wet and wilted.
My favorite tree, once dressed for the annual ball, tosses its skirts aside to take up the everyday green.
I hold soft petals, wet and limp. And remember–small petal by small petal.
How for a brief time they exploded in a flamingo flourish.
And I pray that I will see the needs and hear the whispers and give the small cups.
And that I won’t fail to caress every petaled moment before it fades.
Counting the Gifts
The scent of lilacs in purple and white.
The biggest grand girl raking.
My husband sliding closer in the pew and slipping his arm around me.
Trinity in a tulip.
A patch of wild violets.
The way the leaves dance against the sky.
Tigers baseball and a new sweatshirt.
Talking to the littlest grand girl on the phone.
The fragrance of fading Easter lilies.
Mounds of fresh-washed towels.
Porch rockers.
I would say that this is too beautiful for words…except that you’ve written it and wrapped it all up in words like a present to the reader.
Your words are such an encouragement, my friend.
Loved that “trinity in a tulip” and this post reminds me of the story about the man who threw a starfish back into the water and even though the beach was covered in them he was content to have saved that one.
Oh, I meant to post the photo of the tulip that made me think of that. And I love the starfish story. Thanks for reminding me of it.
beautiful pictures and what a good reminder “small cup by small cup.”
Thank you, Tara. Nice to see you here.
I think about this often actually, how my small cup can make a difference. That story about the teacups, it makes the point very well. Pondering all the goodness you wrote here, words that are like a prayer offering. Beautiful Sandy.
It’s so hard to embrace, isn’t it? This truth that we in our utter smallness can make any difference. And yet it’s like a pebble in a lake radiating outward. And the words your write, Shelly. They radiate in my heart.
The need is so great and our efforts seem so small, and yet…. Your story makes the point well. Our children will remember how the bucket under a dripping tap actually ended up full because of one drip at a time.
Many good gifts to count today. Thanks for sharing your list.
Oh, and I’m so afraid they hear the wrong side of my dripping tap sometimes. 😉
I don’t know why this makes me cry. Maybe it’s because I love pink. Or because I could see those two women and their little cups of water. Or because my own sponsored child in India lost her mother last month and now she’s an orphan and what am I supposed to do about that? Fill my cup, I guess.
Amen, Sandy. Amen to this and to beautiful you.
Oh, Deidra. That sweet girl. I’m so glad she has you to love her. I guess all we can do is give our meager offering and pray He multiples it over and over. ♥♥
Love how you describe things with your writing…Yes, to one small cup at a time as God leads…faithful in the little first…Thanks, Sandra 🙂
Oh, that tree. Is there anything more beautiful than petals, blowing in the wind?
We’ve been talking about this: everything matters. Everything. And sometimes I think the small things matter most. They require a sort of dying every day. That’s hard stuff. But liberating too. All these things. They are enough. Because He is enough.
Ah yes. This moment-by-moment dying–little deaths–releasing tiny petals of self each time. I want to stand in the swirl of them.
This takes my breath “that I won’t fail to caress every petaled moment before it fades” and I pray it becomes truth for me also.
Mother Teresa said, “What we do is just a small drop in the ocean. But if we didn’t do it, the ocean would be less for that missing drop.”
Thank you for sharing that, Connie. What He can do with each drop combined and magnified.
So, so beautiful, Sandy. Thank you for reminding me how much small things can mean.
Needing constant reminders myself, Diana. Moment by moment.
So beautifully expressed with your words and photos. How we miss those precious moments when they are no more.
Our moments pass like fragile, fading flowers, don’t they? I don’t want to waste them.
Sandy, your beautiful words and images were once again the perfect start to my day. Thank you.
Thanks so much, Sandra. I love when you come by.
A cup of cold water given in His name makes a difference. Thanks for this reminder.
Even a small one. All in His name.
This is exquisite and hauntingly beautiful Sandra.
Thanks so much, friend. 🙂
Favorite, favorite post I’ve read this week. Yep, hands down. Cup by cup. That’s how I wish to live. Really, really good write, Sandra. Off to share this on Twitter.
Awww, Amy, thanks. Passing on a cup of hugs to you.
I’ve been on a trip further north, and it has made my spring last a bit longer. Yesterday I saw 30-foot tall rhododendron trees. And I had left my camera in the room!
Hope your ankle heals quickly.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts – and the photos. I love the blooming trees in Spring but it lasts for only a little while. Still the lift I get from seeing the blooms – who can put a price on it?
Who can put a price on the lift our little cups give?