Big kids are back to school this week, and I am home with the
small ones. Tiny shoes, tiny
problems. I am small with them.
Our days are full of simple joys: collecting bugs, watching
clouds, discovering their little shadows on the black top. I am the mommy, the manager, the shadow
cleaning up after them and trying to stay ahead of them.
Surrounded by small people, my world is small, too. And like them, sometimes I get tired of being
small; I look at big people doing big things and I wonder if my work and my
life should be bigger, too.
But I know my eyes do not see rightly, do not really know
the difference between true bigness and smallness. The little man who conquered
the potty has done a big thing. And what
of his mother, who took the risks with him, who shadowed him and cheered him
and protected his pride when he failed?
Tiny bodies do not contain tiny souls.
Small bodies fed, bathed, wrestled and dressed; they are
cared-for.
And souls, fed and sustained by the very Word that brought
life out of nothingness blessed by the Big Love of God, -- we are cared for together,
and this is not small.
For great is your love, reaching to the heavens;
your faithfulness reaches to the skies.