The past few months have pressed on me in a way I never saw coming.
In a way I never knew I always wanted. It seems during this season of much and much
more, I’ve experienced an overwhelming urge for less. This has come as a
surprise to a girl who once put great effort into both her looks and her wardrobe.
While designers were never particularly on my radar, new boots and daily
lattes were things I didn’t think twice about.
Maybe it’s been a long time coming. This whole motherhood
thing has a way of sifting and shaking the raw and the real toward the surface
while extrapolating its polarizing counterpart- selfishness.
And while I’ve never admittedly bought into the minimalist
mindset, I have noted a pull in my spirit to become small.
To become small so that others may be enlarged.
This certainly didn’t feel or sound like me.
And I think that’s what excited me the most.
At a very basic level, I began to question, “How can I today,
better take up my cross? Better sacrifice myself for the good of those around
me?”
Like most things, I believe it starts at home. On a very
basic level.
Live with less so we may be better able to give more.
But what does that even look like?
For us, it has looked like moving out of the biggest bedroom
in our home and into the smallest of our three bedrooms. This room, bless its
heart, fits solely our bed and a small bedside table which now doubles as a
shelf. We have pullout bins under our bed with our clothes that once knew the
luxury of a spacious dresser. The entirety of the room is an ocean of bed resting
near a modest closet which we now share.
Yes. Share.
It all sounded noble and good. Until panic hit on that first
night.
Feeling somewhat as if the walls were going to close in on
us and perhaps swallow us whole in the middle of the dark night, I stared at my
husband and asked, “What are we doing? Are we nuts?!” Now acutely aware of my
need to sashay sideways to make it past the bed to even reach the bedroom door
(sighs and inconvenienced grunts included), it was clear we were in deep. And
as much as I fully regretted my somewhat idealistic decision, I knew in my
heart that God was calling us to become small.
And maybe think outside of the box.
Philippians 2:3,4 says, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition
or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking
to your own interests but each of you to the interests of others.”
Our aim was to practically show our children the importance
of preferring one another, thinking of one another above ourselves. And if we
were going to have any effect, I knew it was going to have to start with us.
I’m not sure how I’ve grown up in the church, taken missions
trips to Africa and South America and am only now realizing the depth of
spiritual poverty I possess with regard to living a life of giving. Uncomfortable,
sacrificial giving. In fact, throughout our marriage, I so wisely discerned it
was my husband who I believed struggled to give. I had been the one to
encourage him to give to this cause or that.
Surely I was generous! Surely my heart was open!
Was I only kidding myself?
Romans 12:10 says, “Be devoted to one another in love. Honor
one another above yourselves.”
Who was the one who got up with the babies most mornings so
that I could sleep in? Who was the one who played with our daughter every
single night after work, pouring into her encouragement and friendship instead
of taking time to relax himself? Who was the one who silently tackled the dishes
that piled in the sink, rivaling some of the tallest known towers?
It turns out my view of giving had been conveniently one-dimensional
for as long as I could remember. And as I stepped back to reconsider, I found this
man of mine, was not only generous, he was a profound example of living small.
And he never even pointed it out.
Which quite possibly both humbled and annoyed me, only
affirming his heart of giving all the more.
Sure, I had known him to carry us while I was sick. He was
my rock when I lost my ability to walk, and he has been by my side through
every chemo treatment. And I adored him for all of that.
But this stuff. The day-to-day no-one-gets-any-credit-for
stuff, he did this all too. And he didn’t utter a complaint.
He knew well the meaning of honor.
I had much to learn.
Even still, this smallness I now craved, needed to transcend
our home and somehow seep out to those around us in any and as many ways as I could
think of.
And before I knew it, opportunities began to arise. I half
wondered if they had always been there, I had just been too busy, tired or
self-focused to see them.
This becoming small business was more painful of a process
than I had anticipated. This chipping away. This pressure. I felt it. In many
small and inconvenient ways. And these opportunities, well they were going to
require some action.
Insert deep fearful breath.
People-centered action had always been hard for this
introverted girl. Drop some clothes off at the Salvation Army? Sure. Pay for
the person behind me at the drive-thru coffee spot? No problem. But relational
giving that required boldness, and in my case some accompanying general awkwardness?
That was going to require some bravery.
Who knew that becoming small also meant becoming brave? I
had always envisioned bravery reserved for the esteemed. Not the humble.
Couldn’t I become small from the comfort of my couch with a
warm cup of coffee in hand?
Read my Bible? Check. Tithe? Check. Give to the needy?
Check. Pray? Check.
Still, it felt as if something was missing.
What I didn’t know was that it was probably the most important
part.
For years I had wondered what it was that God wanted me to
do. What big thing did he have for us to complete? Of course, it had to be a
big thing. Because bigger was better, right?
Except in his kingdom. Where the small are the big.
Still, for years, I was sure his plan for me involved some
grandiose sweeping action where I would rescue some poor souls in need of saving.
My long-sought plans to become a missionary doctor hadn’t panned out as a
result of my illness. I never did gain the glory of that title.
Thankfully, rescued from my own pride.
Was my lupus actually another avenue God had ordained so
that I might become small? So that he may better gain glory?
In our weakness, he
is strong.
Things were changing. I was changing, suddenly realizing
that maybe all God had wanted me to do all along was to start paying attention.
Really paying attention.
I began asking questions, “Who do I know that is hurting
right now? Who can I be a friend to? Who should I check in on? Does anyone need
a meal?”
And because it is the Christmas season, we set out as best
we could to care for our neighbors by baking a ridiculous amount of
cookies. Because why bake two or three kinds of cookies when I could nearly
bring myself to the brink by making seven?
Over-the-top lavish cooking and baking had always been my
favorite way to show love.
And so, we put on our walking shoes and our bravery and went
knocking. We brought cookies and notes of Christmas to our neighbors, some who
we knew, others who we are still working to forge relationship with. This year,
however, I felt more clarity and purpose than prior years. We were going in purposeful
love. Despite the small, seemingly meaningless act that it was, I could barely
contain my excitement.
There were several questionable houses in our neighborhood, one
who we best avoided for the past few years following an awkward encounter with a
home alarm system and three deadbolts to unlatch the front door carefully
guarded by a solemn man who held both the door and his family securely behind
him. It felt anything but jovial. And so, we determined it best to ‘skip’ this
house in the coming years. After all, there had been rumors of domestic
violence following several police visits. We didn’t need to stir the pot any.
This was the exact
reason we needed to go in the first place.
Maybe this was the house that needed our small gesture the
most.
Out on a walk earlier in the week, I took note of the large
number of widowed or single older women in our neighborhood. I wondered what
they were each doing for Christmas? Did they have family to celebrate with? And
so, on our determined path later that week we invited a woman with no husband
or children of her own to join us on Christmas. Obtaining her cell phone
number, I felt like leaping in the air.
Another relationship forged.
At the very least a start.
Not all paying attention is difficult. Some brings with it
friendship and unexpected generosity. A woman recently moved to our
neighborhood and visits regularly, sharing her struggles while bringing coffee
for me, which always feels awkward
and entirely generous.
In my efforts to become small, I find my non-smallness
resurfacing its ugly head, realizing it was her that was indeed blessing me
more.
More than ever, I’ve been astonished by the way Jesus chose
to come. The way he chose to live. For us, even these small gestures have been
hard, further revealing how far we have to go in our journey to become like
him. In all his glory to come at all. And to come small. Beautiful, revealing
and entirely profound.
A favorite author, Shannan Martin says, “Just come. Bring
what you have. Spread it around.”
I think that’s all God wants from us. Not to wait for the
perfect time or place or financial blessing before we move. Move now. With what
you have. And spread it around.
He has been known a time or two to take our little and turn it
into greatness.
