Country western singer Robert Earl Keen penned a funny song a few years back called “It’s The Little Things.” Short and not at all sweet, but not mean spirited (he rarely performs it love without laughing), his lament is over the everyday minutiae of married life:
It's the way you stroke my hair while I am sleepin'
It's the way you tell me things I don't know
It's the way you remember I came home late for dinner
Eleven months and fourteen days ago
CHORUS
It's the little things - the little bitty things
Like the way that you remind me I've been growin soft
It's the little things- the itty bitty things
It's the little things…That piss me off
I was thinking about the little things the other day, as I relayed to a friend an experience that I had at Disney many years back. We’d decided to grab some hot dogs for lunch at Casey’s Corner, and, as Kyle was (thankfully) never a soda drinker, I jogged across the street to the ice cream parlor to get him a bottle of water to drink with his lunch. There couldn’t have been a dozen people in the establishment; maybe three cast members working behind the counter, and just a few people were in front of me in line. With no small amount of fanfare, a man came into the parlor, dressed in what looked like a suit a man might have worn at the turn of the century – pinstripes, tall hat, and spats – “MAYOR” was emblazoned across his chest on a sash. He fanned himself dramatically with his top hat, and, in a loud voice, said, to no one in particular, “I was told it was free ice cream cone day!” Without even glancing up, two of the cast members who were scooping ice cream answered him, dully, in unison: “Yesterday.” He snapped his fingers, in a dramatic “darn it!” gesture, replaced his hat, turned, and left the ice cream parlor. The whole scene was played out for just a handful of us, but for that brief moment, we were transported to a time and a place where the puffed up mayor might really be walking around; where an ice cream parlor might actually even offer a free cone. It was one of those little details that no one does better than Disney, and that people like me, who love Disney, never forget.
Thanks in no small part to our Florida pastor, Michael O’ Flaherty, I always reflect on the little things when I hear the story of Jesus’ transfiguration. I realize that sounds odd; it’s probably one of the most “dramatic” events recorded in the Bible. Imagine hiking up a mountain with your teacher, watching as he’s suddenly he’s transformed before your eyes, then hearing the voice of God say how pleased He is with His son! No wonder the apostles were astounded! Father O’Flaherty read the story during Lent one year, as is the church’s custom, and then suggested that, rather than looking for God in the big, dramatic, mountain-top moments, we might start to seek Him in the valleys - the every day, the ordinary.
Have we become so blasé and sophisticated that we need a thunderbolt to experience God? Do we miss Him completely in our encounters with sweet babies, our deep conversations with great friends, in our emotional response to great music, art, or literature? Are we so preoccupied with our constant pursuit of happiness, or absorbed in our own problems and our phone apps that we never have or make the time to seek Him? It makes me sad that so many people think of God for an hour a week in a building they call church; sadder still that many who consider themselves devout Christians fail to recognize Christ in one another.
Conversely, do we need to travel to Calcutta and minister to the poor, lay hands on the sick in Jesus’ name, and spend seventeen hours in daily prayer to be of use to God? Certainly there are people anointed and called for great deeds in the service and ministry. But what about the rest of us poor schlubs, who have a hard enough time just coping with the everyday battle of spiritual versus secular; whose coping skills are suffering and whose only solace at the end of many days is a glass of wine?? Is there hope for us? (Talk about dramatic!!) And now we come full circle; back to the little things. Each day presents us with an opportunity to let God shine in us and through is, in a myriad of little ways.
This is not a new concept. Consider the words of the “little flower,” St. Terese of Lisieux:
“Great deeds are forbidden me. The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least actions for love."
A saint can prove to be a wonderful example, and Terese saw the little things as a way of manifesting God’s love. She cleaned the chapel and prepared it for mass. She wrote plays for the community. She sought holiness in the ordinary, and saw herself as a perpetual child, eager to please her Father. But most notably - she did it with a good attitude. Our modern, egocentric culture might see this philosophy as weak, as allowing ourselves to be doormats for others. On the contrary, Terese saw the spiritual “giants” she so greatly admired as great trees reaching up to heaven – and recognized herself as the little flower at the foot of the trees – reaching up with tiny hands to receive the same life nurturing love and sunshine – in exactly the same measure.
We’re all capable of little things: a kind word to a stranger, a ride for a friend, a card in the mail for a sick relative, a call to a family member who crosses our minds. Every day presents us with new opportunities; little moments in which we can manifest God’s love for us, and, in doing so, experience Him. They may not be broadcast to millions; in fact, most of them will be seen only by a few. But they are important, and they make a lasting impression.
