I remember the day before I turned fifty. It was a day where the old saying "big things come in small packages" really hit home for me. It was extra hot day that day in my little corner of
Kentucky. I remember it well. The animals all parked themselves on the old
front porch, and even the kitties were panting.
It’s not that the temperature was overbearing, but it was coupled with
extreme humidity and it could make the strongest person feel as if they could
pass out on the spot.
I wanted my final day of being in my forties
to be positive but it started out on a very bad note. However, it got better as the day went on. Once all the ruffled feathers were smoothed down, and
tempers got down to a tolerable level, we began getting ready for the
evening. My mom and step-dad were
expected to arrive for a visit from Arizona so they could be there for my
{gulp} FIFTIETH birthday.
We were rushing about, cleaning, putting clothes in the
washer, sweeping, doing dishes, and vacuuming floorboards (if the dang things
were alive they’d most likely have died of shock). We were consumed in the
activity that I like to call “mad dash to clean so that it looks like we do
housework on a daily basis”.
Pathetic. But we’ve all done it,
right?
My two oldest children were grown and gone, and the two darlings that I had in my forties were still with me (still are). I didn't give my little girls much attention that day
because of my cleaning binge. Not only
that, but I was pretty exhausted from having a 24-hour flu that I was just
getting over. My Ellie played happily in
the hot sun and would come in for drinks and cooling time. Chloe wanted to help me clean – she loved to
clean. She was good at it, too – very thorough. She even liked cleaning the toilet, inside and out. Go figure.
(note: Four years later, times have changed)
As the hours ticked away, and my parents’ arrival got closer,
I got more nervous, wanting everything to be nice for them. I finally jumped in the shower around 4:00
p.m.. After showering, slapping on some
make-up and combing my thinning hair, I scurried about doing last minute
things. Then suddenly, I was stopped in
my tracks by a sobering and beautiful sight.
At that time we had a Boxer dog named “Rocky” and Chloe had let him
in. He was laying on
the floor, exhausted from the heat and humidity outside. Chloe was very concerned for him and let him
in the house to cool off (as we did for all the animals several times per
day). She was laying next to him,
holding his paw like a true friend would, and then I noticed that in her other hand
she was holding one of those tiny portable fans that run on batteries. She held it in Rocky’s face so he could be
cool.
She didn’t care if the pillows were straight on the sofa, or
if the floor was clean or if the laundry was folded. She didn’t care if her hair was done or her
clothes looked nice. She just cared about
her buddy who needed a rest with a nice cool breeze in his face.
The little things mean a lot. And honestly, are they really “little”? My little Chloe means a lot… to me and the
dog. May we all “paws” more often to
remember that we don’t have to be perfect for anyone, and that the grandest
perfection is to demonstrate love, and to BE love. Chloe demonstrated to me that even when a
person feels they are ‘tiny’ and can’t make much of a difference, the exact
opposite is true.
Her love that day started out like a tiny pebble tossed into
the pond of my heart, and it rippled out to YOU, and from you it will go to others…
((((( ripple ~ ripple ~ ripple
)))))
Happy rippling.... I hope we can all "paws" from what we think is important, and just give a little. Or a lot.
