Little things . . . Once upon a yard, I collected maple samaras. Ladybugs. Pea-sized mystery-spheres I found under shrubs — until Dad explained bunny droppings.
To this day, I still watch for meaning amid the miniscule.
Friends, here we are again, between Noels, past and pending. I’ve been reading about creatures that might have shared that long-ago Holy Night. Welcome to “Little Things: Between Noels, Part I (of IV).”
Because little things are a mixed bag.
For instance: Years ago, after our daughter returned from a mission trip tormented by hatching head lice, Dreamer and I spent hours combing sticky nits from strand after strand of her thick hair.
Parental love to the rescue — liberating one cherished, vulnerable scalp.
Aesop said, “No act of kindness no matter how small is ever wasted.”
Do our grown children remember our past, painstaking efforts? To paraphrase Blaise Pascal, When little things afflict us, even small actions can console us.
Two sisters in Holland, arrested for rescuing Jews during WWII, were remanded to Ravensbrück concentration camp. In Barracks 28, the ten Boom girls slept on reeking pallets swarming with fleas. Their prayers of gratitude for being alive and together included repeated pleas for relief from the infestation.
The vermin, however, thrived.
And those blood-sucking parasites? Turns out, they repelled sadistic prison guards. No inspections. No beatings. No rapes.
Compassion to the rescue — paradoxically — via pestilence.
So consider the likelihood of itch mites infesting Bethlehem straw: Some types bite; others burrow beneath the skin and lay eggs, causing a contagious, festering rash.
Did they forgo their nature and leave baby Jesus in peace? Oh, I hope so! And if not, do mites possess any redeeming qualities?
I Google . . . and find . . . no crucial link in the food chain, no rare source of protein, no secret component to help cure disease.
And yet. The utterly despised were granted proximity to Emmanuel, God with us. Compassionate, cherishing Love vulnerably offered to all creation — no matter how repellent or negligible.
Sometimes, it’s the little things. Head lice, fleas, itch mites — one Creator, three ordeals. Head-scratchers, all. Like the teachings of Jesus: If you want to be first, embrace being last. Find yourself by losing yourself.
Truth nips: It gets under our skin and bides its time, hatching later perhaps, as revelation.
Merciful, mysterious God, thank you for your enduring forbearance and endless largesse — embodied for us through, and in spite of, so many little things.
Friend, where might a dash of compassion take you next?
“Anyone who thinks they are too small to make a difference has never tried to fall asleep with a mosquito in the room.” —The Dalai Lama
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
You’ve done it again. Helped me look closer at details and enlighten my perspective. Thank you, Laurie. I’m thinking about several parts of this. Do our children remember what we do for them? Which makes me think, do I remember what my parents have done? What God has done for me?
You’ve offered a host of other ideas I will be thinking through today. Proximity to Emmanuel! The mosquito line you included at the end. And, “To this day, I still watch for meaning amid the miniscule.”
So glad you do. Keep reporting back what you find!
Oh, I’m so glad! I’ve been thinking about my parents a lot lately, recalling how I took for granted remarkable, continuing faithfulness and acts of care. And also my children, wondering what impressions will last after I’m gone. I KNOW I take God’s unending mending and listening and kindness and redemptive love for granted waaaay too often. It’s probably a very good thing Thanksgiving precedes Advent! Such a good reminder . . .
Thank you for sharing what held meaning for you, friend. I will keep looking and listening and reporting back . . . <3
I really enjoyed reading this story.
Linda, thank you so much for dropping by and reading the post! I really appreciate you leaving a comment, too, and hope you’ll visit again. Wishing you gentle days that fill your heart.
Takeaways…
“until Dad explained bunny droppings.” – love it!
“watch for meaning amid the miniscule.” – thank you for the affirmation and reminder.
“between Noels, past and pending.” – perfect.
“Did they forgo their nature and leave baby Jesus in peace?” – I love the simplicity in your depth of thought. I think that makes sense.
You ask, “ Friend, where might a dash of compassion take you next?”
I’ll ask to be taken, deeper, still.
There is majesty in simplicity.
Thank you, Laurie.
Ah, that is a profound prayer. I’m asking the same today,
May it be so: mercy and compassion and the heart to come alongside, deepened and ever-deepening . . .
Thank you, friend.
I just always love the way you can pull seemingly unrelated elements into a prayer and cause them to sing in unison. Thank you for persevering in mining the depths and offering the sweetest holy balm with your word pictures.
❤️
Dear Pacia, such wonderful words for me to read at day’s end. Thank you, thank you for this gift!
Sometimes we (I should say I) don’t recognize how important small things are.
Zec 4:10 Do not despise these small beginnings, for the LORD rejoices to see the work begin, to see the plumb line in Zerubbabel’s hand.” (The seven lamps represent the eyes of the LORD that search all around the world.) (NLT)
I’m counting myself right alongside you on that one, Bev.
How good to read that heartening verse in Zechariah again, as we step into Advent . . . Thank you!
Once again you have drawn invaluable lessons from unexpected things, Laurie! It never occurred to me that itch mites might have been one of the first indignities Christ encountered. How incredible to realize: “The utterly despised were granted proximity to Emmanuel, God with us. Compassionate, cherishing Love vulnerably offered to all creation — no matter how repellent or negligible.” Thank you, Laurie, for giving us worthy food-for thought to begin the Advent season of 2024.
Nancy, it kinda took my breath away, too, as the thoughts came together. And still does!
The biggest (and perhaps holiest) paradox in life is finding wealth in suffering.
For me in cancer…
Thank you for sharing this, Susan. What you describe sounds like a infinitely priceless treasure, incrementally realized, by the power of grace, over time, Perhaps lived into as well as received?