The poet Robert Frost, at his writing desk, noticed a speck on the white sheet before him. He paused. Was it a a drop of ink, or a bit of dust? While he paused, he noticed the speck move, and he contemplated its presence and movement; He said,
I have a mind myself and recognize
Mind when I meet with it in any guise
No one can know how glad I am to find
On any sheet the least display of mind.
Reading these lines of Robert Frost’s opens myriad thoughts; How often have I glossed over a fecund opportunity portending to expand my universe, because I did not pay attention!? A spot on a paper, a loose brick, a discolored roof, a dangling Oak leaf, or a simple, if brief, refreshing, cool breeze stirring a sultry summer evening; any one could be a peek into a fresh world of contemplation.
There was once an intellectual exchange between Jesus and a Jewish lawyer. This brilliant leader had sincere questions for Jesus. Questions so deep and so personal that he risked ridicule from his peers, and therefore, under the cover of darkness, sought out Jesus for answers. He expected deep, intellectual answers. As usual, profound answers are often disarmingly simple; Jesus said to this young man, “listen, Nicodemus. Listen to the Wind, Nicodemus. It is not as complicated as you think it needs to be. Listen to the wind. Pay attention.”
Naaman, a highly regarded General in king of Aram’s army, had Leprosy, an apparently incurable skin disease. Naaman heard that the prophet Elisha could heal him. King Aram sent Naaman to Elisha, loaded down with gifts of wealth, hoping to pay for his healing. Here again, the simplicity of Elisha caught this mighty man unprepared. The healing was so simplistic that Naaman almost refused it.
Maybe you too, have moments such as Robert Frost or Naaman; you almost missed a moment of magnificence. I know I have. A glimpse of grandeur need not be that rare. Too often, as do I, maybe you think you don’t have time to tarry, to ponder petty—or thought to be petty—moments. By wearing such blinders we can miss a moment of golden epiphany. There is a Greek word that captures the essence of such a moment; kairos a time when conditions are right for the accomplishment of a crucial action— such as seeing your child take that first step. Oh, you will see other steps, but that first step. once taken, is gone.
There are some who scoff at science research and call it “learning more and more about less and less.” But if scientists, such as Dr. Amber Schmidtke PHD had not already been tracking the early evidence of COVID-19, who knows how much worse the devastation of the Pandemic would have been. I have friends here at Emory University and at the CDC who daily do work that would drive me nuts; so much meticulous work and yet, they are treasures beyond measure. It gives a whole new nuance to words of the song, Little things mean a lot.
Crystal Gayle made the song, Little things mean a lot famous. Here are a few lines from the song; Give me your arm as we cross the street
Call me at six on the dot
A line a day when you’re far away
Little things mean a lot. Crystal Gayle:
Life is made up of little things; cells in your body are building blocks, seconds in a minute constitute hours, and every breath you take, adds to your life— Little things—even “a considerable speck”—mean a lot. What speck has spoken to you?
©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022