I walked past the chip aisle to reach for my triscuit box and saw her, an early-store-stocker, sitting on the floor with small plastic Pringles containers sliding on top of her. She looked up at me exasperated, “I just can’t get these annoying little packages to stay. Every ten minutes they fall and I’m rearranging them and begging them to stay until the next person reaches for their favorite flavor.” My eyes twinkled, “Sounds like my life,” I laughed. She shot me a questioning look. “I just feel like I do the same inane things over and over.” She nodded and made one of those sounds women give to each other, “Uh-huh,” the universal: “I hear you girl.”
But friend, I see you.
I see you wondering if your small matters.
I see you taking laps around the grocery store with your handwritten list.
I see you with your Monday morning ministry hangover wondering if your Sunday sermon stuck.
I see you writing words again in the early morning and daring to push publish while its still dark.
I see you sliding into bed wondering if your small acts of faithfulness matter.
I see you friend, and your small, ordinary, courageous acts of love.
Here’s the truth that I’m leaning into as I go about my dizzying array of the very small: small can be extraordinarily lavish. “Do small things with great love,” Mother Teresa taught.
And then Jesus showed us how to open our arms just that wide.
What small things with great love are you doing today?