We’re packed up and on our way when he tells me about it.
And it’s big.
But this time I stay small and silent.
And I listen.
Do you know we use the same letters to build the words “silent” and “listen?”
And it is this, this big thing, that can build or crush.
It’s my response that can build or crush.
And it’s this thing that brings to mind all the small and petty things that once seemed so big that now fade behind its shadow.
Or am I blinded to them it its light?
We don’t have answers yet.
So for this dandelion, lion’s tooth, moment, we wait small.
And I do the small things.
I pour detergent and bleach and watch whites swish.
I pull squares of toilet paper and clean up another puppy accident.
I walk through too-long grass and dump the pail of balled-up kitty litter in the weeds beneath the sumac that borders the soybeans.
I empty the dishwasher and wipe down the counter.
I send an excited email to a friend who’s seeing big life-changing dreams come true.
I scoop goulash into baggies to freeze for a grandgirl’s picky tastebuds.
I brew a “cup of abundance” in the form of milk oolong and toast the grace of the empty and the small.
And I frisk and fill my thoughts with one small verse.
Still trying to stay small,
Joining Lisa-Jo and company as we write free for five minutes on small.
“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” ~Philippians 4:8 (NIV)