Pequeñitos

October 20, 2022

My life right now is occupied by small things. Of course, the most obvious small things occupying a huge space in my heart and life are these kids. However, there is a general feeling of my life being broken down into smaller pieces and yet becoming fuller. Every day is full of little things. My house is always replete with tiny insects. My hands seem to constantly be holding smaller ones. My vocabulary is made up of little words. And my days are filled with small moments.

It’s crazy how moments so small can fill a life so full. I keep a journal to remember my time here, using bullet points to organize the things that happen. Daily, as I write out the points, they seem so little. I often wonder that they add up to a full afternoon’s worth of activity: swept my classroom for the umpteenth time, taught the difference between centi-, mili-, and just plain meters, read 5 pages with Milenca, made supper again, picked naranjas with Mariana, prayed with the girls before bed, and so on. Each piece of the puzzle is so small. However, somehow they amount to a very busy life.

One of my favorite small moments recently happened yesterday. I had just arrived at the Lila’s house, and taking stock of the current activities, I realized that all the girls were occupied. There is almost always a math problem to explain or someone’s hair to braid, but not today. Everyone was unusually self-sustaining—everyone that is, except for Nirza, our youngest. Nirza informed me that she, in fact, desperately needed my help cooking. She was busily mixing up all kinds of delicacies with a large bucket of water and two cups. As I surveyed the scene, a small girl absolutely covered in water, I had to join in.

So we sat there and “cooked” together. She thought it was hilarious when I pretended to be burned by her soup and wanted to “cheers” before every sip of our “tea.” Soups, cakes, pancakes, teas, rice, we made it all in record time. The same cup of water became everything from oil to fry up our rice to chocolate sauce and broccoli. As we cooked, the water slowly made its way out of the bucket, all over us, and onto every inch of the floor surrounding us. The splash zone rivaled the one at Sea World. But what does one expect, no mess from all that gourmet cooking? It was so fun, our laughter spilling over even more often than the water. Eventually, though, I had to leave our water-logged kitchen to make something slightly more substantial for our actual supper.
Another small moment this week happened on a night we lost power. Even though we had no gas and had been cooking over open fires, the day had passed smoothly enough, until the power went out. The power often goes out once, even twice a week. However, the timing of this particular cutting of the lights was unfortunate because it wasn't quite time for the girls to go to bed. Yet, it was already pitch dark.
The moment the lights cut out, all the girls just froze. One instantly started singing, another crying, and I felt a small hand latch onto my own. After a few more seconds, I had three little girls clinging to my arms. After a moment, two of the younger girls adjusted to the new state of affairs, but one of the older girls stayed, clasping my hand, unmoving. Normally one of our most talkative, she was silent. Finally, as I began to stoke the fire, coaxing out just enough light to see her large, deep brown eyes, she began to tell me a story. "I don't like the dark," she began. She told a story of abandonment by both her mother and father who didn't even tell her where they were going; of deep, scary voices in the darkness, and hunger. As she whispered by the firelight, I felt so small. I and my problems at once appeared infinitesimally tiny. It was a short story, spoken at a low volume, some might call it small, but it was weighty.

One of the preoccupations I daily struggle with is whether I’m doing enough. Am I making a big enough contribution to the lives of these kids who need so much? Raising happy, healthy kids who love Jesus is a task under any circumstances, but here the job seems monstrous. I want to change the world for them, to do big and grand things, and finding that I often can’t is hard. However, at the risk of sounding cliché, mountains are moved one stone at a time.

Jesus, when He was here, was occupied with small things too. He spoke of mustard seeds, specks of yeast, and lost coins. Jesus cleared his schedule to meet with toddlers and wrought miracles with crackers and tiny fish. He entered the small towns and picked the “small” people. Our God considered two small coins the greatest offering. The Creator of the biggest things I can think of considers the little things significant.
As I am here, working with some of my favorite small people, He is teaching me. Our culture is obsessed with the big. We love large numbers, huge portions, and ever-grander possessions. We often forget the small things, leaving them behind, and losing track of them. However, in God's kingdom, these little moments and little people are of infinite value. While they may be small now, they can grow. Little moments can build on each other, growing into a grand example of the love of Christ. Little people too are ever-growing, changing into the ones who can change the world. So in the end, though the moments are small, perhaps they are not quite so little after all.