There are a lot of small things around this house. In my view currently, there is a pint size fire engine, a laundry basket full of clean diapers, and no less than two pairs of toddler shoes strewn across our living room rug, which is likely hiding a cheerio or two. The events that make up our days are rather small, as well. A run to Target, a walk to the park, the occasional morning playdate before nap time.
Our life in Oklahoma felt packed. It was beautifully full with people, and the birthday parties, and Sunday brunches, and late night chats on our living room couch that went with all those relationships. And life in California has a different rhythm and a different pace, and our couch is primarily occupied by our footy-pajama clad toddler, watching Daniel Tiger and drinking a sippy of milk.
I miss our house on 157th Street. And I miss those relationships that filled our days and our home. And I miss the depth that we had in those friendships. The depth of knowing someone that can only come with history and time.
Friendships feel small and a bit fragile in the making. The days feel long and a bit emptier than we are accustomed to.
And here is the challenge that has been delivered to my heart...
Do not despise the days of small things, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin. -the Prophet Zechariah
It is work, this rebuilding of a life across the country. It is work, this raising of a tiny person. And we are in the throes of the days of small things. But every small stone that was laid in the day of Zechariah became part of Jerusalem and the temple rebuilt. And so it is and will be with us. With every playdate and every friendly conversation, with every puzzle assembled and lego tower constructed, with every owie kissed and time-out administered. We are building a life and raising our person. And I will work to chose hope and joy in the days of small things.