It's the Little Things Sometimes

Nita Gilger

 The elderly gentleman in his crumpled hat, wrinkled shirt, and old walking cane could not possibly have known where I had just been. And yet, with great effort, he hurried his steps at the Brahm's entrance to open the door for me as I was wandering in to get my favorite "pick me up" treat. I thanked him profusely. He simply smiled, tipped his hat and did a little bow saying, "You are mighty welcomed young lady."  

I had just come from the funeral home where I had to pick up my mom's ashes. I held the box in my shaky hands and tears rolled down and dripped onto the box which I thought couldn't possibly hold such a precious life in such a small space. The old man could not have possibly known that I felt the weight of saying goodbye to the last of our four beloved parents. I loved them all so deeply. But, now, none remained and I felt it deep in my soul as if the world had shifted to an unfamiliar and uncharted destination for me.  

The old man's gallant kindness held me and helped me to get through the grief burst that sought to sink me. It was a little thing. It was a gesture that I am sure he was taught from boyhood to do by his father. Manners mattered to him. They mattered to me. Somehow that small kindness held me and gave me encouragement and a renewed belief in hope.  I thought of my mom's oft said phrase, "Sometimes honey, you just have to keep on –keeping on." 

Some days, I am not sure I contribute much. It is so hot right now that I have been less willing to get out and do things but I need to remind myself that small things matter a great deal sometimes. My small acts of kindness do not change the entire world. From my stone cottage on the hill, I am not able to move mountains but I have to remind myself that even little things matter. God can use even our smallest acts of love in ways that we cannot imagine. The gentleman at the ice cream store had no idea that some 11 years later I would still feel gratitude for him. He had no idea that his kindness held me together and helped me refocus and carry on.  

The truth is when we love large, we grieve large. It is unavoidable and necessary. But as I sometimes fumble and bumble along, I hope I can remember that the small things really do matter. Great things are often done by a series of small acts brought together. So today, I pledge to myself to enjoy the little things, because one day I may look back and realize they were really big things. 

My owls were back this morning. They have been avoiding the heat too. Franklin's serenade reminded me to be grateful and sing my own song however big or small. It matters. Amen. 
 

Process Theology and Smallness
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Nita Gilger's note on kindness reflects the heart of process theology by emphasizing the interconnectedness of small acts and their cumulative power to transform lives. In process thought, every moment, every action, contributes to the ongoing creative advance of the universe. Gilger's experience, where a simple gesture of kindness from an elderly stranger held her together in a moment of profound grief, is a beautiful illustration of how even the smallest actions are part of God's ongoing work in the world.

In process theology, God is not a distant, controlling force, but one who is deeply involved in the world, offering possibilities for growth, healing, and transformation in every moment. The old man's kindness can be understood as a response to God's gentle lure—a manifestation of divine love expressed through human action. He could not have known the depth of Gilger's sorrow, but in his simple act of opening the door, he participated in something much larger than himself. Process theology sees these seemingly small moments as the way God works in the world, not through coercion but through invitation to love and care for others.

Gilger's reflection that "small things matter a great deal" is a key insight in process theology. Each action, each decision, adds to the unfolding of the world, contributing to the well-being of others and the creation of beauty. Process theology celebrates this relational nature of reality, where even minor gestures can have profound effects. The old man’s kindness did not just comfort Gilger in the moment but has remained with her, shaping her outlook and actions over the years. This echoes the process view that every experience becomes part of the ongoing history of the universe, affecting both the one who acts and the one who receives.

Gilger’s understanding that "when we love large, we grieve large" aligns with process theology’s emphasis on the relational nature of existence. To love deeply means to be vulnerable to loss, but in process thought, God is present in both the joy of love and the pain of grief, offering comfort and new possibilities for moving forward. Gilger’s journey through grief, supported by small acts of kindness, reflects the process view that God is the "fellow sufferer who understands," walking with us through every experience, offering hope and renewal.
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In her conclusion, Gilger’s pledge to “enjoy the little things” and recognize their true importance resonates with the process theological idea that life is made up of a series of moments, each an opportunity for newness and connection. Whether it’s a stranger’s kindness, the return of the Franklin the owl, process theology reminds us that these moments are not insignificant; they are part of the divine call to love, gratitude, and creativity.