The Little Things

This morning validates why I should think twice about owning dark colored vehicles. Try as I might, I can only keep our maroon colored car clean for what seems like a few fleeting hours or less. You’d think I would have learned a lesson after trying to maintain a massive black van for quite a few years. This morning I am on a mission to bring home early Sunday morning hot cakes from a neighborhood drive through. (And hope no one sees me in my pre dawn “finest.”) Having clean cars is a bit therapeutic for me and I especially enjoy a quick glance at a shiny car for a day or two after investing six or eight dollars in a carwash. As I peer expectantly through the emerging daylight, my “clean” car is covered with a yellowish hazy film. It is visible evidence of all the tiny irritants that wreak havoc with so many of my friend’s breathing during this season—tiny, tiny specks of pollen.






My wife secretly inspects me each time I am to appear in public for “minute unimportant” (to me) stains and such. I recently got a new pair of glasses with a part of them soldered just slightly askew. That slight imperfection was immediately detected by my observant wife and validated by the Optometrist. (No wonder she is such a great proofreader for various authors.)






One of my finger still bears a slight redness from a tiny sliver of wood that somehow penetrated my skin last week. Though it was only a small fraction of an inch long, that sliver affects my whole body and especially my attitude. Likewise, for some small particles floating in my knee joints. Little things affect my body a lot. Those small particles have hijacked my mind and body.






Recently while visiting a military exhibit I got to see a mockup of a nuclear weapon. It didn’t look very impressive and was not what I expected. However, the awesome destructive force contained in an atom was reinforced by some World War 2 era pictures of the flattened Japanese cities of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. What devastation starting with a basic minute particle! Evidence of fear of nuclear problems originating with tiny atoms continues (and escalates). Today’s newspaper headline bears proof.






The Western world spends billions of dollars and invests untold man hours in searching for small quantities of contraband; be it potential explosives or drugs. Personally I must fit some kind of a profile because the newest techniques in TSA airport screening seem overly intent on finding something miniscule hidden in the recesses of my oversized body. That’s not the arena in which I like to be considered “special”!






Hopefully you have been able to follow my “rabbit trail.” I am absolutely convinced that “small” has alarmingly huge potential for discomfort, pain and destruction in many assorted arenas. That doesn’t even take into consideration the devastating fear factor that often accompanies the scientific and medical evidence or even rumors of the potential of this “minutia.”






There is amazing power in little things both bad and good. What I find amazing is how readily I can accept the awesome immobilizing power and potential of small harmful things. Yet I often lack the vision to grasp the amazing yeast-like potential of small obscure things intended for good. I am not just speaking in terms of things like substances that can potentially cure diseases or a energize perpetual motion machines. Perhaps the biggest lapse is a lack of confidence in myself (just one “small” person among six billion other probably more qualified folks!) to bring about positive change in this huge world. Why do I fear and overreact to the “bad” little things and underestimate and have so little confidence in the potential of the “good” little things? I suspect it’s the difference between fear and faith that determines my differing reactions. Guess it’s time to revisit that tale about a tiny mustard seed to help me maintain a proper perspective. I need to focus and move beyond immobilization into belief and action on the side of “good”.