Big Little Things

Shells from the Mediterranean beach

Feeling waves tease the sand from my feet as I wade along a breezy shoreline.
Listening to the tranquil stillness as it plucks chords of peace in my soul.

Tasting the tang of salt in misty sea-air.
Kneeling in the sand to adopt a lonely shell.

Standing in a bracing, gasping wind that shouts of freedom and surrender.
Closing my eyes as it whips my hair in its gusty breath.

Dancing barefoot in a long, flowing skirt.
Twirling in a swirling rhythmic current of musical emotion.

Whispering a lullaby to a small but precious charge.
Grasping their fragile finger—smiling as they grasp yours.

Folding a paper box, or gazelle, or yellow sunflower.
Making lacy bookmarks by hand to give away.

Hearing my younger sisters play a duet for flute and piano.
Holding tight to a motherly embrace for a moment longer before "good-bye."

Laughing for no reason as a smile passes between my eyes and those of a friend.
Singing opera in the shower. Just because.

Concocting an exotic and (subjectively) tasty spice blend.
Sharing a decadent chocolate dessert.

Teaching a young friend how to "ride a horsy."
Playing speed-scrabble and winning or losing by two points.

Blinking in the dawn of a Saturday morning.
Pulling up the covers for five more winks.

Sitting still on a mossy-soft stone in the woods.
Writing words as they flow dripping and new from my fingers onto the page.

Reading an apropos scripture passage.
Discussing it again during afternoon Bible study.

Leaning into the strength of an understanding shoulder.
Glancing across a room right when someone's glancing back.

Gazing at a star-spangled sky through the moon-roof.
Dreaming of tomorrow, of yesterday, and today.

Big, hairy audacious goals loom beckoning, promising, engrossing, exhausting.... Caught up in a draining cycle of Productivity, we take our tray and load it at the Busyness Buffet, then scarf it down in Guinness speed so we can go back for dessert.

We rush so fast that the moments memories are made of lie neglected, discarded like a wilted flower. Pick them!—press the flower. Frame it with a caption in your mind. Share its frail beauty with a fellow Traveler.

My own life is busy right now, and while I believe that what's on my plate right now is truly what God has prepared in advance for me to do (Ephesians 2:10), I still have to be careful not to be consumed by all my "good" activity, and keep my eyes on HIM. It helps to pause—to notice things—to remember, and tuck more memories away.

So I collect them. Big little things. Because they matter.

And they add up.

To a
Little
Big
Lot.