Little Big Things

Earlier today, while my mom and I were trying to make our way through the death trap that we call the parking lot of Wal-Mart, we passed a little girl around the age of seven, skipping between the cars beside her mother. Her long, blonde braid bounced, and her lips were frozen in a large smile as she tried to keep up with her Mennonite mother and the buggy. The reason for the little girl’s hurry wasn’t necessarily her mother, but the large, pink, striped ball in the basket. I can remember many times I was excited for something, my ipod that I got in fifth grade, or my first cell phone in sixth, but I don’t remember ever being as excited as that girl looked for a large ball. It was the simplest thing, yet it meant so much. This is illustrated well by the popular Zac Brown Band song, ‘Chicken Fried’.

My grandmother tells me stories all the time about when she was younger. She had a basket ball that popped and it devastated her. When she had a doll made of glass, it eventually broke, earning her grievance again.

‘It’s funny how it’s the little things in life that mean the most.’ People are so advanced today that we sometimes lose sight of real happiness. ‘Not where you live or what you drive or the price tag on your clothes.’ The little girl wore a brilliant smile, even though she was wearing a plain gray dress that her mother had probably crafted for her at home instead of the name brand t-shirts that it seems a requirement to own.

When we were little kids, I think we had a better understanding of what happiness means than we do now. It’s not the newest Ipod, or the name brand t-shirts. It’s a big pink ball, playing marbles with your grandfather, or horseshoes with your dad. It’s not having the most money. It’s the little moments worth remembering. It’s not the nicest car or the most expensive clothing. It’s having the most care, family, and love.


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