Beauty in the Small - Hannah Dormeier

Word:

Dandelions.

The bane of suburban yards everywhere.

They’re small but powerful weeds that require constant vigilance by proud lawn owners to keep at bay.

People will do just about anything to be rid of them. And even if you yourself don’t mind the bright yellow clusters that pop up, daring you not to notice them, you don’t want to be THAT neighbor: the one that lets dandelions gain a foothold in an otherwise immaculate grid of houses and green, thwarting the hard work of people who just want some order amidst the chaos, some tranquility and control while running this ratty race.

I didn’t hate dandelions until I realized we were becoming THOSE neighbors. We bought our first house in an established, well kept neighborhood. The kind where older couples walk their dogs, and younger couples walk their toddlers. The kind where a school sits two blocks away and you can hear kids playing and shouting at recess. The kind where people cross the street to say “Hi" after a long winter of being shut away.

One day, a neighbor came to say “Hi.” and I suddenly became aware and insecure about the dandelions in our yard.

I used to love when they would pop up, small and happy, and as the summer goes on, they change into little irresistible orbs begging you to make a wish and scatter the seeds to the four corners of every yard.

It doesn’t take much to disturb the immaculate grid of green in a subdivision.

No, I didn’t used to hate dandelions, but after that day, we began a campaign to exterminate them.

This last weekend was warm and we spent it outside. We planted 30 daffodils and a couple trees and several shrubs & ornamental grasses. We moved earth and heaved out roots. We did big work to shape our yard into something that looked like a respectable yard and not like the owners have two small kids and a dog and lack all sense of propriety.

But our 3-year old didn’t care about any of this. He wanted to find the “blossoms of the wishing flowers”. He wanted to find those irresistible yellow flowers that turn into “wishing flowers” by some magic, with seeds that scatter every which way.

Every morning, he asks to go outside to try to find the dandelions. The other night, he wept when we told him there wouldn’t be wishing flowers for at least a few more weeks. We didn’t have the heart to tell him that when he did find them it wouldn’t be in his own back yard.

You see, like dandelions, children are small and unpredictable and difficult to shape and harness. It doesn’t take much for their “chaos” to spread. The work to weed out what makes a kid a kid takes years…until they’re adults and can be taught to hate the unpredictability of a dandelion. They ARE dandelions in a world of grown ups that want all things predictable and ordered and controlled.

Which is why I think kids loved Jesus. He was a dandelion, too. He was unpredictable and irresistible and just his presence dared people not to notice God’s profound beauty and love. And he was and is begging for us to scatter those small seeds into the world and invite people to notice.

A tulip bulb can be dug out, but just try to recapture all the seeds that a dandelion gives over to the wind.

God has been asking me to let my big plans be inconvenienced lately. Some of them over the last year have been dismantled entirely. He’s asked me to give over all I have planned to accomplish in order to turn my attention over to the small (and big) people in my life asking me to put my big things away, so that I can be present with them. As someone who wants to get stuff done, it’s been hard for me.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

To listen to God’s still, small voice, to let the chaotic, unpredictable children come to Jesus and to let Jesus disrupt our plans, is to give up our own power and become the seed, not the landscaper. Instead of determining who and what belongs where, our small selves are spread to all the yards, all the corners of our neighborhoods, daring people not to notice God’s deep love in and through us.

Music: Durufle’s Requiem Op. 9 Intoit

Prayer: God, you’re the landscaper here. I’m the seed. Whether I’m a bulb that is specifically placed, or the dandelion seed being spread by the wind, let me show Your beauty wherever I am. Amen.

Meal:

Vietnamese Spring Rolls (howhound.com/recipes/vietnamese-style-summer-rolls-with-peanut-sauce-10641)

This is a meal best assembled with friends/family. Each ingredient is small and powerful by themselves, but are harmonious together, just like a room of friends. You can’t help but notice each element and the meal engages all of your senses. It’s worth the effort!

Time: Get herb seeds (basil, mint, whatever), and plant them in the ground or in a pot. Nurture them and watch them grow. When they arrive, clip some and share them with a neighbor. (OR use them to make the spring rolls and invite your neighbor over for dinner!)

Beauty in the Small - Brian Lowery

Word

So many of my mornings offer up a sherbet’s swirl of sky, and many a morning I’ve pointed my daughter’s eyes upward to point out a truth that moves me: God could have just given us sky, but he worked hard to make it beautiful. When he wove the world together, he was sure to sweat the small stuff, punctuating the larger things of life with smaller gifts in form and appearance. And the sky is but one example of this, of course. Think on how God’s gone one mile more with so much of creation. He could have just given us fish, birds, grass, and soil – the wind and the rain and the trunk of a tree. But he gives us –     

the rainbow sheen of a fish’s flank

the iced hue of the blue jay’s hood

the tear of dew at the tip of every arced blade in the morning

the hopeful kelly green of the shoots teased from the earth by the sun after a cruel winter and a fickle spring

the careful spacing between reedy fronds, encouraging bands of light to dance on a wall when the sun pushes its way through some swaying fern

the way an afternoon rain interacts the surface of the pond, creating rich rhythm – a lullaby when a single measure of music can’t be played  

the trembled lines of a trunk’s rings, marking each year of the tree’s existence and wooing whomever counts them to think back five years – ten – to what was said then, what was done then, how life was lived then

All this and as the shades are drawn on any given day – another sherbet swirl.

And when the shades are drawn altogether, a billion pinpoints of light, winking at us as we blink ourselves to sleep.

Nothing big in our world was left by God as merely serviceable. He made it all stunning, taking up the mantle of a rather determined artist, brow creased in concentration, always touching up the edges of each work with smaller hints of vibrancy and verve. And these smaller things are no small thing, really. Because God’s sweating the small stuff – that each day our breath might be taken away, our eyes filled with tears, our hearts left racing, our very being, being drawn back to him – is perhaps, aside from his Son, the greatest apologetic we have for his love of us.

Beauty in the small, indeed.

Meal

Brownies are in no way a meal, but they are of the Lord. So, I’m going to talk brownies with nary a blush. Not too long ago, my wife started adding a small touch (see what I did there?) to an otherwise simple batch of brownies that is nothing short of wonderful – and it’s terribly easy to pull off. All you and I have to do is grab an ordinary, run-of-the-mill brownie mix, mix it all up according to the instructions provided, and pour half the mix onto an eight-inch baking pan. And here, my friends, is where the “small touch” comes into play. Cover the initial layer of spread brownie mix with tiles of Hershey chocolate bars. (If you want to go next-level, cover the initial layer of spread brownie mix with tiles of Hershey Symphony bars to add a touch of toffee to the whole affair.) Once you’ve covered that initial layer of brownie mix, pour the remaining mix over top it, and follow the rest of the box’s instructions with regard to baking. When you eat the finished product, I suspect you’ll find that this small touch is no small thing.       

Music

Any time I think on creation’s endless capacity to show both the glory and charity of God, I think of Rich Mullins’ “Calling Out Your Name.” I will never grow tired of this song. You can give it a listen – and watch some stunning time-lapse imagery – here:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z_enljD4380

Prayer

God, you could have made creation merely serviceable, but you made it stunning. For this I give you thanks. And I ask that you would give me the eyes to see the smaller touches of your creation, and as I see, help the eyes of my heart know the depth of your love for me and my neighbor. Amen.   

Time

Your assignment is simple, really: Step outside the walls of your living space, and take in the swath of creation before you, looking for those smaller touches that stun you silent with their loud messages of God’s glory and charity. It’ll be good for your soul. But don’t keep the discoveries to yourself. Either today or tomorrow or someday soon, invite over a neighbor or two – for a meal (or Brownies) – and in a manner that feels wholly natural, point out the smaller beauties that blur together to form a vast and hopeful statement. It’ll be good for their soul, too.    

Beauty in the Small - Valerie Morris

Word

I never heard the term “fourteener” until I moved out to Colorado.  When you grow up in the Midwest, you don’t think too much about these towering mountains.  Even after moving to Colorado, it took me a few years to work up the nerve to hike up to the top of one of these monstrous hills.  However, a charity hike up a mountain finally gave me the framework I needed to decide to tackle this challenge.

My first ascent was to the top of the highest fourteener in Colorado:  Mt. Elbert. Go big or go home, right? Now, before I dig in too far, I don’t want you thinking I’m some amazing athlete here.  I got my moment of glory at the top of the mountain, but it was quite the ordeal to get there.

When you’re hiking a mountain this high, it takes most people between 6-9 hours of steady hiking to get up and back down.  Hiking a fourteener in Colorado also involves going up through a thick forest until you hit something called the tree line.  This is the elevation where trees no longer grow and it becomes more rocky and full of boulders. This is also the point where the mountain tends to feel, at least, like it’s going up faster than you can keep up with it.  Oh, and by the way, the air gets noticeably thinner too.

By this time of the hike up Mt. Elbert, I had no idea what I was in for.  So when we hit the ascent past the tree line, I was surprised to note that I could physically feel the lack of oxygen.  I couldn’t take a breath deep enough to move forward. My legs were also jelly from hiking up for hours already and we still had a long way to go.  It was here that I developed what I liked to call the ’Twenty-Five Method.’

The ‘Twenty-Five Method’ involves counting twenty-five steps in my head and then stopping, catching a few deep breaths and a few swigs of water, glancing ahead to a rock that I guess to be about twenty-five steps away and then repeating this process.  The last mile of the mountain was conquered with this sophisticated method. It was not glamorous, brag-worthy, or even athletic, but I made it up.

I’ve made it up two other fourteeners since then, each time using the ’Twenty-Five Method.  Each set of twenty-five small steps were often painful, labored, and just as much a mental challenge as they a were physical challenge.  

Most times in life, we follow the ’Twenty-Five Method’ as well.  We’re doing everything we can to get one step more to make it through and finish strong.  Sometimes we’re enjoying the steps and feeling good about the process, and sometimes we’re barely catching our breath.  Just like my steps up the mountain, it can be just as much a mental challenge in life as it is physical.

If you’ve ever hiked a mountain before, you know the feeling when you reach the very top.  All that hard work has paid off and you’re rewarded with views that go on for days. I’ll be honest, when I reached the top of Mt. Elbert, I was pretty stoked.  It’s amazing to realize that the hours of hiking you just did, and the thousands of steps, and the blisters on your feet, all equated to reaching the summit.

Thousands of little steps.  

In my case, they were teensy, tiny steps.  Remember my sophisticated method? I wish I could say I was making huge strides, but they were often twenty-five small steps before I’d stop and wheeze a little bit.  But as non-glamorous as I looked shuffling up that path, a bunch of little steps got my body up a mountain. And, a bunch of tiny steps each day get me closer to fulfilling God’s purpose for me.  

We all take tiny steps each day in our homes, jobs, families, friendships, and even in the encounters at the checkout line.  These moments are often not glamorous, Instagram-worthy, or something we probably give much thought to. These are the moments, though, that get up our own mountains in life.  Be faithful in these moments.

The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.

Deuteronomy 31:8

Be encouraged that wherever you’re taking your twenty-five steps today, God is walking right with you.  Not only that, your thousands of little steps put together are getting you to your epic destination with God.  He’s got a purpose for your life and as you are faithful in taking the little steps, however painful or mundane or silly they feel, they are part of your purpose.  

Meal:

One of the tricks to hiking (and frankly, a normal day) is to keep eating regularly so that you fuel your body  to keep going. I discovered this simple recipe for homemade granola/power bars. The recipe explains them as energy “balls,” but I like to form them into a bar shape and put one in a small sandwich bag.  Freeze them and pull them out whenever you need one. They’re great to take on the go!

https://www.cookingclassy.com/no-bake-energy-bites/

Music
Oceans (Where Feet May Fail), Hillsong

Prayer:

Father, may we walk faithfully today whether the steps are easy or hard.  May we keep moving with trusting faith that you know the ultimate plan for us, even if we can’t see yet.  May we trust you with every step we take today.

Time:

Make a list of the things you are taking steps in today.  What are the hard steps to take today? What are the easier steps? Now list out who may benefit from your faithful obedience in taking these steps.  How are you fitting into God’s bigger plan?

Contact:  Valerie Morris www.simplelifevibes.com

Beauty in the Small

Word:

Luke 12: 6 & 7- 6 Aren't five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten in God's sight. 7 Indeed, the hairs of your head are all counted. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows!

When I was a child, I was small for my age. I was constantly asked if I was a year, sometimes even two years younger than my age. As with every child when you do not accurately guess that they are six and three quarters and they’re practically seven already how can you not TELL, it frustrated me regularly. But being small didn’t. Being small was my joy.

I loved that I had to climb on counters to open up cabinets. It meant that it was easier to swing on the uneven bars at gymnastics. It meant I could (and did) cartwheel everywhere and almost never ran into anything because I wasn’t too big. In fifth grade I was able with minimal effort to get out of the handcuffs they showed us in the D.A.R.E program on their smallest setting. They’ll never catch me, I thought, though I obeyed authority compulsively at that point. Trees were easy to climb, I could swing on a handful of willow branches without fear, and I made the smallest splashes when I dove into the pool during the summer.

I was obsessed with miniatures, with Polly Pockets, with small worlds that I got to imagine and create. My imagination did not consider little things to be a disadvantage. Another reason I adored it had to do with most of those who were bigger than me not using it to hurt me. Being small felt safe and I could curl up for a remarkable amount of time on my mother’s lap, wrapped up in her arms. When puberty and illness came, I mourned being of slightly above average height and certainly above average size. It was a legitimate identity change.

For many, feeling small is a hateful experience. To feel less than, or not enough. It feels like weakness. I understand that, and have been made to feel that way myself, many times. Despite that, feeling small feels safe to me. I spent a long time taking solace in the fact that God is bigger, the biggest in fact, and that my singular life has a purpose and a plan. I can’t say I always feel I live up to that purpose. After all, what’s one person, one life?

One person is everything. Jesus was one person (and, admittedly, a whole lot more). But big things like revolutions tend to start with small things, like one person or one idea. The people who had to meet and live and love for you to be where you are, right now, reading this and living a life that belongs only to you? That’s the opposite of small.

These days, as I’m someone who isn’t, I especially adore the moments when I feel small. When I’m part of a project and I get to take pride in something as a group. Times when my husband wraps me up in his arms, and I get to feel little and safe. When I’m caught up in worry, but able to pull myself out of it and take solace in the fact that God, who is so much bigger than me, is the one really in charge. Those are the moments where being small is still my joy.

Meal: grab a snack for this portion. Olives, or grapes, probably not both together (but it’s your call). Think of these small fruits and how Jesus also likely ate them. Here they are, in your life now, different than they would have been in ancient Israel, but still here. Small…but important none the less.

Music: I’ve listened to more versions of ‘His Eye is on the Sparrow’ than I can accurately remember as a person who grew up in the church. The version I go back to without fail is by Lauryn Hill & Tanya Blount. I can happily chalk that up to watching Sister Act 2 approximately one thousand times, along with the awe that comes from listening to their incredible voices together.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H74FBgOZTDw

Here is where I’m going to cheat a little and also recommend ‘The Prophet’ by our own Common Year contributor Abby Rajasekhar. It’s a favorite album of mine, with this song focusing on how David as a young man felt that he was too small to be important.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7O40OKhFOY

Time: Think about something you can do today for someone else. It can be simple, it can even be easy. Find something small you can do to make someone around you feel loved and important. Take a moment to appreciate the little things and how lovely taking a moment can feel.

Prayer: Lord, you seek out the small. The children, the ones that society deems unimportant, the ones others pass by. Thank you for your unconditional love that you have for every single one of your children. For even when we feel that we fall through the cracks, you see and know us.