When
he started kindergarten, it only took me a day or two to learn that
we needed to start making lunch early so he would have time to eat
before he caught the afternoon kindergarten bus. The first day went
something like this:
Joseph ate happily (and messily) and then said,
“Mom, can I have another sandwich?”
“Really,
Joseph? You've had two big sandwiches already.”
He
shrugged and said he was still hungry, and I got the peanut butter
and jam out again and made him another. He finished it off, drinking
another glass of milk and leaving the peel from the banana he'd eaten
too. Then I helped him wash his hands and face and he put his
homework in his backpack and we walked to the bus stop, with
three-year-old Elisabeth beside us and Adam in the stroller. We waved
and said good-bye when he climbed on the kindergarten bus, and then
we turned back for home.
● ● ● ● ●
Several
years ago, some neighbors invited our family to their house for a
backyard cookout. We were happy to be included, but we were a little
concerned about our kids, who were picky about some foods and didn't
eat meat. Our host assured us that he and his wife would find
something they liked.
We
arrived at our neighbors' home and sat at a table in their backyard.
While her husband cooked burgers and hot dogs at the grill, our
friend came from the house and asked what she could prepare for us.
Would we like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?
Absolutely.
She
went back to the house, but returned a few minutes later to ask a
question: “White bread, or whole wheat?”
The
responses were divided. She smiled and went back to the house. But
she was back soon, with another question: “Crunchy peanut butter or
creamy?”
“Oh,
really,” I protested, “you don't need to worry about it. They'll
eat whatever you give them.”
She
listened to my kids as they stated their preference and went back to
the house. But not for long. She came back to ask “Strawberry jam
or grape?”
It
was quite a walk from the house to the table were we sat, and I felt
awkward about putting her out this way. But she – and her whole
family – were so cheerful about it. And after we ate we played
some fun games in the backyard and went home very happy.
● ● ● ● ●
My
ten-year battle with cancer has had its ups and downs. On one particular day I was
very sick – lying in bed, feeling miserable. My husband was busy with
our kids and the day's work, but he checked on me regularly. At one
point when I felt so bad I wasn't sure I could go on, Wes poked his
head into the room and asked me if I needed anything.
“A
resurrected body,” I answered. It seemed to me that nothing else
would help me.
My sweet husband assured me that I would get one of those eventually, but for
now would I settle for a peanut butter and jam sandwich? I nodded,
and he brought me one, and I ate it. And you know, I felt a little
better.
● ● ● ● ●
Peanut
butter sandwiches are not glamorous or elegant. They aren't
expensive, and they aren't very hard to make. They are one of the
small, insignificant things in ours lives that we don't think about
much.
But
small things make a difference. The love and service of a mother for
her hungry child, the kindness and cheerfulness of a kind and
generous neighbor, and the compassion and care of a man for his
ailing wife.
Those
aren't such little things.
And
there are smarter people than me who think so too:
"Life is made up, not of great sacrifices or duties, but of little things, in which smiles and kindness, and small obligations given habitually, are what preserve the heart and secure comfort." (Humphry Davy)
"And thus we see that by small means the Lord can bring about great things." (Book of Mormon;1 Nephi 16:29)
"Sometimes when I consider what tremendous consequences come from little things, I am tempted to think there are no little things." (Bruce Barton)
So go ahead, do something little. It might turn out to be bigger than you thought.
