The Big Issues

Sonorous Ticking

The old Grandfather Clock measures out my days, its sonorous ticking dividing it into thousands of moments. For years it sat silenced, because its proximity to bedrooms was purgatory for insomniacs. 

A year or so ago, a visitor got the clock re-started, though I had reservations about that constant tick-tocking ruling my days. The noise, however, is sonorous and peaceful, sounding out a sort of heartbeat. 

The best thing, though, is that the actual bell which trills out the hours no longer works. He couldn’t figure out why, but actually, I think we have achieved the best of both worlds. We have a gentle marking of the passage of time without the piercing reminders every hour that our days are flying by inexorably.

There is much benefit in living each moment. I understand that is one of the principles of the practice of mindfulness, but it also echoes Biblical teaching about our lives in relationship to God. I’ve been thinking this morning about the benefits of noting the small things in life which often give us pleasure. The fragrance of a rose. The humming of a bee. The swoops and dives of swallows (or even the tiny bats which were out last night). The purr of a cat. The giggle of a child. 

Life is full of Big Issues, issues which can overwhelm our thoughts and peal out incessant, demanding gongs. But more important are the small things which build up our daily lives and mark the minutes as they go gently by. Our characters are built in the small things, revealed in the big. If we can cultivate peace and harmony moment by moment, then when the Big Issues arise we can navigate them secure in God’s love, faithfulness and hope.

‘Who dares despise the day of small things?’ God asks. (Zechariah 4:10). 

Today I am going to celebrate the small things, as I navigate the Big Issues in peace.

Little Gems

There’s a variety of lettuce sold here in Scotland called Little Gem – which seems an overblown claim for what is, after all, just a rather limp-leafed lettuce.

I’m sitting at the table looking at the vase of carnations Don brought me the other day. I’ve always loved carnations. We had red ones at our wedding. I suppose, though, over the years other flowers have edged carnations off the top spot in my estimation. Lilies are hard to beat. A fragrant rose from the garden – nothing compares. Tulips can be fabulous.

The carnations in front of me might be called floribunda – I don’t really know. But they aren’t the single giant floral head but instead, a composition of lines of delicate, thin leaves bordering short, delicate stems with one or two small carnation heads opening at the end. There are yellows, peaches, reds. A composition of colour; not a solo.

You might say these little gems are ordinary. They’re not spectacular. They don’t trumpet their beauty with a heady fragrance, nor spread their petals wide like one of my voluptuous roses. 

But in their own quiet, modest way, they are eloquent. They speak of love. They express beauty. They bring colour into a drab season. 

I suppose we all want to be like the 118-carat egg shaped diamond recently auctioned in Hong Kong for about $30 million. Someone to be admired, oohed and aahed over. 

But the reality is that such a sparkler needs to be locked up, insured heavily, and isn’t out there to be enjoyed. Much better to be a little gem, sparkling away, bringing colour and love and beauty into many drab seasons and situations. A little gem, not hogging the limelight but content to flower in a composition of colour and line, its very humility enhancing its beauty all the more.

God’s word challenges, “Who dares despise the day of small things?” (Zechariah 4:10) Small things have a lot to be commended for. 

Little gems are precious.