The Little Things
The Scribettes make it a practice to write from prompts every time we meet. We love it. Sometimes it’s good, and sometimes its gobbledygook, but we have fun with it.
One such prompt came from author Eugenia Price, “The great doing of little things makes the great life.” She was right.
Most of us live the little things. Looking back, we can see the series of little things that have made up our lives.
Here’s a list for me. I hope you think of some things and share them.
Children sneaking pieces of turkey on Thanksgiving during bird carving time while Dad or Grandpa pretends not to notice.
My niece teaching my two-year-old how to place olives on individual fingers and eat them slowly like popcicles. Over and over. Guess what happened when she got home?
Horsey rides – two toddlers on Dad’s back as he prowled around the floor on hands and knees. Their shouting giggles still ring in the recesses of my memory.
The house party when the sewer backed up. That was fun! NOT!
Dealing with chicken pox at the same time a cat in heat constantly howled and backed up against me. That ended up with four kittens a few months later. But the chicken pox were gone!
Flying down the snow-covered hill and gripping the sled only to find the grips in the air in my hands and nothing holding me on the sled but momentum.
Finding out my house sat on a knoll instead of flat ground while learning how to skate in a pair of roller blades. Grass came in handy for dropping—er—stopping.
Reliving the moment when my husband stomped after the umpire when our son’s team lost the baseball game; watching the loss of gesticulations as gushing water drenched the umpire’s uniform. The whole team and parents shrunk into the bleachers after that one. Think anyone noticed?
Buying fancy hats with my Mom and sisters and wearing them at the Christmas shopping show. And enjoying all the smiles coming our way all morning. Yes, we drank tea, too.
Striding into Canada as a family during our Dad outing day. Following the trail, before we knew it, we’d crossed the line. And back.
Outrunning my five-year-old grandson uphill (I cheated!) and hearing him chuckling behind me, “Aha Grandma! Aha Grandma!”
Picking out gems from piles of rock with several other grandsons. One of them was a champion picker and we had to guard our dirt piles from him.
Ambling around the park in the autumn surrounded by the glorious blaze of color.
Strolling around the house in the spring checking for little green sprouts poking through crystallized snow, anticipating the gorgeous flowers, or luscious vegetables to come.
Buying the land for my house and sitting on the brick development statement for hours and journaling, months before a foundation was poured.
And finally, like wandering through a gallery of God’s paintings, watching the wildlife from my porch:
Deer eating my flowers, the mom and the two children.
Turkeys digging in my garden.
Quail with all their trailing little ones.
The raccoon taking over my kitty run.
The hawks circling above the river.
The heron jerking along in the air with his long legs dangling behind him.
The young eagle squawking from the tree across the road.
The crows noisily chasing each other through the trees.
The butterflies flying in circles around each other.
Twittering varieties of birds in the twilight.
The nasty hornets building nests in my house dormers.
The sweet honeybees harvesting from roses and lavender.
I come to the end of the some of the little things that make up my great life. Gifts, all, from the One who knows how to satisfy.
How about you?
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