There are times when our world shrinks down to almost nothing. It becomes so small even as the world around us goes on without us. Nothing else matters but what is right here, right now. It isn’t that all of that other stuff doesn’t matter exactly, it’s just that it takes a backseat. Our focus is drawn to what is up close and personal. Bird’s eye views will have to wait.
Waking up a week ago with a new titanium knee, I stepped—albeit with a walker—into a much smaller world. Our days consist of tending to the necessary things: Short walks in the house, painful exercises, lots of ice and elevation, drugs, rest, hydration, nutrition, and, oh wait, that’s about it. It’s the tiniest of worlds compared to the one we’re accustomed to, but it is the one we’re called to inhabit now if we want to step back out into the larger one then. When our world gets small we shrink our lives down to fit into its confines.
Life hands us countess opportunities to allow our existence to become small. A sick child who can’t sleep. Time spent at the bedside of a dying loved one. An unexpected health diagnosis, an injury, an unearthed trauma, or a sudden tragedy. Even a traffic jam, a power outage, or a snow day give us a chance to practice living small. No matter the reason for the pulling in of our lives, the work is the same. To determine what is essential, now. To do what is needed, now. To be willing to trust that being here is more important than being anywhere else.
So what is the invitation when our world gets small? It is not to forget what is out there, but to remember what is in here. What is closest at hand. What is essential now. It’s a call to tend to this and not that. To identify the necessary things and do them. To let go of that in order to hold on to this. To turn towards yourself and those nearby, and trust that those elsewhere will be cared for too. It’s big work on a small scale.
It’s worth noting that the two biggest events in life happen on the smallest of stages. Birth and death. In those moments there is nothing else that matters. The outside world goes quiet, the only sounds, the first cry and the last breath. Both are events that are at once monumental and miniscule. The bookends of one single life lived.
Perhaps during those times when our world gets small, we have the chance to be reminded that we matter greatly, and not at all. The world will go on without us, and, it will be different because of us. The gift of life is that we get to choose the kind of difference our one precious life will make out in the big wide world. And that is no small thing.
