Seeing Small in the Big

A lifetime of little

It was a monsoon. Ok, not exactly named as such by the weather channel but it might as well have been. And my mom had promised to drive me to the next town over to a Taco Bell, which was at least 30 minutes away to get a “Sprite.” Not the coke, but a part of Rainbow Brite’s little gang. Remember those odd little creatures? They were the little round, furry characters that went along with the big Rainbow Brite doll. In retrospect, I have no idea why a Taco Bell would be giving them away, but they indeed did and I was a lucky 80’s girl that particular day!

See, I knew how fiercely my mother despised driving in the rain, much less a monsoon. She worried over driving in an afternoon rain cloud, which wasn't the best way to face her fears seeing as that was precisely what Florida was known for every single summer.

That day, she gave me much more than a plushie. She gave me her heart as she abandoned a core fear.

Fast forward….

I remember being stuck in the hospital for that what felt like the thousandth time away from my other children and my husband & she just showed up.

She didn’t just show up from around the corner or down the street, which is sacrifice enough but no. She showed up after a LONG trek to ALASKA with her family. Exactly. Her family’s vacation. She arrived at her home, tossed an overnight bag in her car and promptly proceeded to drive another 5 hours just to sit with me. To sit with me.

The sacrifice she made and the love I felt in that moment, from my lifelong best friend will never ever be lost on me.

Rewind….

I remember being in Cracker Barrel with my kids, when there were just three of them, and they were small. We bowed our heads to pray before the meal came out and I didn’t think much of it. I was just so desperate to show them what I felt was important.

I recall an older gentleman staring in our direction but I decided to ignore his inquisitive expression. I assumed our prayer had annoyed him but with 3 littles I didn’t have the time to be bothered. I was mostly sensitive at that point in my journey & I went about eating my meal as usual. When the meal was completed and I asked for the check, the waitress told me our meals had been paid for in full.

Tears streamed down my face right into my empty plate of, most likely devoured French toast. It doesn’t matter if it’s morning or supper… you’ll most likely find me heartily satisfied over their French toast. As a very overwhelmed mama, whose husband was away working, I let it soak in that someone, some stranger saw me and … was touched in some small way.

Back to mom….

I remember when my mom first received her cancer diagnosis. Her home church set up on the only hill in our small bayou town, wanted to help and they did exactly what they knew to do best. They fried up the very fish that's endemic to our calm waters & lives in abundance in our little bayous. The fish that bears our little town’s festival namesake. Mullet. And lots of it. Oh and with cheese grits and hush puppies. I’m kind of drooling just thinking about it all over again. My heart hurts if you don't know what I'm talking about!

That fried fish never tasted so good. Knowing what it meant to my parents’ journey, how the proceeds would help. There was no such finer a meal. Paper plates, plastic forks, and all.

Best meal ever.

I remember being around age 10 and on the front porch at my great grandmother‘s swing. The cousins and I were told repeatedly not to swing the swing too high for fear it might become dislodged from the hinges, I suppose. We weren’t completely convinced her warnings were warranted. We couldn’t help ourselves. We would all pile up on the swing as if it was the only thing at her home to do. Now that I look back, it kind of was the only thing to do. But I remember piling up on the swing with the cousins after she had yelled with her deep voice coming out of her round body with her signature red curly, coiffed hair and completely disregarding her warnings and the throngs of giggles that ensued.

It was worth it, I thought. The small flight into the air descending upon a very broken swing, was worth it. We all laughed until we nearly cried and watched literal smoke come from my grandmother’s exasperated face.

And yet now…..

Sometimes, I get overwhelmed with the big. The daunting. The unsettling and intimidating.

And then sometimes, when I think back through some of our biggest challenges, I’m able to clearly see there were a million little wonderful moments strategically placed along the way.

I pray if you find yourself in the middle of “big” that you’re able to see the “little”, too.

****image from RedBubble creator "Photomamaof4"