A Slow Accumulation
In the spirit of morning traditions, the third thing I typically do is open up the blinds to actually see the new day I just thanked God for gifting me. This morning when I opened the blinds it was snowing. It was a beautiful sight to behold. The white flakes were cascading effortlessly from the sky with the street lights highlighting their beauty. (Yup, it was still dark out.) The flakes were small. Individually they would have never been as breathtaking as they were collectively.
At first glance, it appeared that the snowflakes were falling rhythmically, but as I kept looking I realized that the real magic wasn't about the rhythm of how the snowflakes fell, it was about the consistency of their falling. As I looked out the window watching the flakes fall, I thought to myself, "These snowflakes could really be underestimated just looking at them as small, pretty particles that happen to be falling from the sky. They don't appear to be much at all. They don't appear to pack a lot of power--that is until they keep falling and falling and falling to the tune of a slow yet eventual accumulation."
A few minutes later it occurred to me that the message of the snowflakes is a life message for each of us. In the space of growing into our best self. In the space of becoming more courageous, we do small things every day that without being put in perspective could seem like not much at all. Whether the small thing is reading a chapter from a book. Meditating for twenty minutes. Exercising for thirty minutes. Praying before you put your feet on the floor. Saying I love you to your family before they walk out the door. Any of it could be misconstrued as a "small thing". But it's really not, and it's not because as with the snowflakes, with consistency, what we perceive to be small is accumulating into something that has meaning and will matter.