Tuesday, August 11, 2015
"Do you remember that Sabbath when we were all so tired--and we came to your house--and we made spaghetti and random tortilla things--and sat and talked--and played in the hammock?!"
"Do you remember that evening when we had that snow day and we all came over and had popcorn and hot chocolate and tea and talked?"
"Do you remember when we sat on the lawn and looked at the sunset?"
"Do you remember..."
Yes, I remember. How could I forget? Last semester I had the great privilege of becoming "mom"/"big sister"/"twin sister"/general-carer-for-of-people to a rather large group of college students. Many of whom I'm still in touch with, still their sister, still even called mommy on occasion. (All this, by the way, makes me ridiculously happy).
And I've noticed something. As we re-connect over the summer, and as I hear and recite with them the times most precious to us, we remember the big things--but it's the little things we really remember. The times when we felt heard and loved and we felt safe and cared for. The times when we looked another in the eye and said or just felt: "You too?!'
Those are the times we remember. And usually they were tiny times. Spur-of-the-moment thoughts. Words said that seemed to take no root at all. A quick invitation to a few friends. Popcorn and tea. But they are what sank in deep.
I'm increasingly convicted that we are not called to great things. We are called to a hundred tiny little things. God alone does great things. But He does them through our tiny actions.
May I do little things in His love.
"Don't look for big things; just do small things with great love. ...The smaller the thing, the greater must be our love." (Mother Teresa)