Shrinking the World, For a Moment
small things we can do (when we don't know what to do)
Today the world outside my window is experiencing the lingering effects of Hurricane Beryl as she travels north. I sit in my high-backed moody blue chair, computer in my lap, tap-tap-tapping away but the weather outside keeps snatching my attention as the usually sturdy oak trees bend and sway, leaves all a-flutter from the wind.
I do love a good storm, but last night, I went to sleep with anxiety lodged in my chest.
I’ve had a heightened sense of life’s fragility as of late. On Monday, I took our boys to say goodbye to my parents’ trusty ol’ golden retriever Tucker. We knew his days were numbered, his bones feeble and fur white with age, and yet, emotions were raw and wide-ranging. The boys’ four personalities were on full display as they processed their shared loss, and I felt like I was running grief triage. Loss never emerges in one form or pace.
And I find myself wrapping my arms around quite a few griefs these days. Not all of them have names and faces, but I feel them all the same.
In the days after the first presidential debate, I listened to a range of political podcast episodes in an attempt to listen wide and well. My own personal views aside, I took out my earbuds and felt another welling in my chest as I wondered, “Where do we go from here? God, what is on the other side?”
And I guess it doesn’t really matter what the “BIG THING” is that hangs heavy on our shoulders (politically, relationally, theologically, emotionally, vocationally….take your pick), because some days, as I pull my weighted blanket up around my chin at night, it all seems like too much.
I’m prone to overacting in those moments. I go from one extreme to the other, most likely a vain attempt to regain control. I try to counterbalance the BIG THING with an opposite or opposing BIG THING. But really, most of the time, the only things we can really do to remember who we are and where we are and to see that the beauty of being human isn’t really about being BIG at all.
Most of the time, when the wind whips and life bends and I seem to have no say, the only thing I can do is let myself shrink a little. I let my world grow small—very, very small. And it’s not to hide or distract or pretend like there aren’t BIG THINGS happening in the world.
No, I shrink to remember I will not be shaken. Like so many of the stories Jesus told about mustard seeds and yeast and coins, I have to believe that the kingdom—the eternal world still unfolding—is embedded in what is small. Very, very small. So I get down on my knees to feel the quiet steadiness beneath my body. I let goodness catch my attention and beauty remind me of God’s infinite wisdom and affection. I push back against the BIG THING alongside him not with might or muscle, but by choosing to do small things in genuine love.
This week, in equal parts defiance and surrender and hope, I started putting together a list of small things we can do, when we feel like there’s nothing we can do. I invite you to borrow from it or add to it in the comments or share it with a friend. Let’s shrink a little and grow these small things together:
Take a walk.
Tell someone you love them.
Close your eyes, breathe deep, and count to ten.
Create something new.
Utter/scream/sing/screech/seethe a prayer.
Notice something lovely.
Name your desires.
Pick up some trash off the street.
Look up at the sky.
Write down a favorite quote and put it in a place you see often.
Wiggle your toes.
Splurge on ice cream.
Listen to the sound of your breath.
Sweep a floor.
Get rid of something.
Look a stranger in the eye.
Breathe fresh air.
Write down everything you hear outside your window.
Sip slowly.
Step outside.
Smile at your neighbor.
Make two loaves of bread, and give one away.
Take a nap.
Paint your toenails.
Take a book to the Little Free Library.
Pull weeds.
Watch something that makes you laugh.
* Eat a real big cookie
* Buy some really unique note cards (I’m not crafty). Write an encouraging, caring note to someone going through a tough time or just someone you sense needs a kind word.
Walk barefoot in the grass or on the beach
Read a poem
chase the dog
be chased by the dog
make someone laugh
draw