I don’t know exactly when it started. Maybe it was that morning show radio gig that I sort of accidentally landed. Or the subsequent television news contract that followed. I suddenly found myself in a world where ratings and audience and numbers really mattered.
See, when I say ‘accidentally landed’, I mean it. I was in school to become a psychologist, head down, plowing through coursework and trying to figure out where I wanted to go for my doctoral work. I’d decided to stay for a summer semester at the university I attended because I had an early graduation date in my sights and grabbing extra credit hours over the summer would get me that much closer to my goal.
After giving a presentation in one of those summer courses, a guy in the class approached me. He said, “With your speaking voice, I really think you could do well in radio and in vocal work.” I inwardly rolled my eyes and thought this was one of the more awkward ways for a guy to approach me for my number and request for a date. But guess what? It turned out he was legit. He actually was the manager of a radio station. I actually did go to said radio station and recorded an audition tape.
And then he actually hired me. And he never did ask me out on a date.
So there I was, almost done with my psych degree, now pulling extra hours at the radio station and learning all the inner workings of that world. In short order, I ended up following that manager to a bigger station and was given a prime spot on a morning show. Which then led to being hired into television.
I’d like to say I’d never sought the spotlight, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. I remember being cast as the lead in my first grade Christmas play and got that first taste of the attention that comes with being front and center. I made first chair in flute in junior high. I tried out for cheerleading and more plays and ran for student government and even made a try for Junior Miss. But most of those efforts led to not making the cut, not making the team, not getting the part. I made one more run for a role I desperately wanted in a college production, and once again felt the sting of rejection. At that point, I decided I was done trying to chase that kind of acclaim, and ready to put my head down, and starting cranking through my coursework, ready to earn my PhD in record time and open up my own practice, preferably on a beach somewhere. Because surely people at the beach needed psychological help from time to time, just as much as people in a suburb.
But once I accidentally entered the arena of broadcast, those old desires for limelight stirred, and it began to matter again. It felt big, this thing I was doing. People knew my name. People recognized me. And broadcast news seemed so urgent, so immediate. No matter than I wasn’t in some huge market; just being able to say I was in radio and television sounded so…important.
Fast forward a few more years, and I was married to Michael and we had a baby on the way. And that felt even bigger and more important than anything I was doing in broadcast. We knew we were going to be moving because of Michael’s further education and work plans. We initially thought I would continue in radio and television, figuring out some way to juggle a new baby and Michael’s crazy schedule. But when it was all said and done, it made more sense for me to stay home with Madison, our new baby girl, and take voiceover work jobs on the side.
I loved being home with her. I loved showing her off at the grocery store. I loved the attention lavished on her by her grandparents. Her first year just had a glowy haze about it.
And then…as much as I adored her and wanted to be in the role of being home with her, as we settled into our routine, into the little starter house on the outskirts of town, into the schedule of Michael being at work from pre-dawn until well after dinner, I started to feel invisible. I’d performed for such a long time. I was on the airwaves every morning and the nightly news every night. And now, so much of my work, so much of my effort, took place inside the four walls of a tiny little house, tucked away in a nondescript neighborhood.
We had McKenna a couple of years later, and then Justus, and then Maesyn. I was crazy about them, so thankful to be home with them. But all the little things, the endless cleaning, the laundry, the naptimes and the bedtimes and the meals and the Goldfish Crackers ground into anything upholstered, the endless cycle of all those little things, set me to pondering. When was I going to do ‘big things’, like the ‘big things’ I had done pre kids? When was I going to ‘perform’ again? Or, would I ever get to do ‘big things’ again? What if that was it, that stent of spotlight, what if that was all I was ever going to get of going big? There were times it would practically take my breath away, this struggling, this tension between being convinced I was doing the best work in the world being their mom and the fear that I was obscure.
It was during this timeframe that my time with God, my prayers, took an interesting turn. I began asking Him when I would get to do ‘big’ things for Him. I journaled about it, prayed about it, obsessed over it. And then one day, His answer dropped deep, deep in my heart. “What if I call you to obscurity?” He asked. “Would you be obedient to that?”
Okay then. That was unexpected.
But what a profound question from my good, good Father. What if He’s more interested in how we are doing the little things? What if that matters much to Him? What if the movement of going from laundry basket to laundry basket gets counted as much if not more than the performance in the rat race? Over time, I felt like He began showing me that, to Him, it’s all big. Not just the stuff that everyone else can see. Not just the moments where we get to shine in a spotlight of approval and applause.
Four more babies would follow those first four. There would be many, many more years of ‘little things’. Many more hours spent doing things no one else could see or notice or appreciate. And it’s just been recently that I realize how big those little things have been. The kids are launching now. Five of them are adults, the other three zooming into middle school and the last years of high school. And when all of them gather around our table, when the jokes fly and the conversation soars and the friendships deepen, I see it. I see that God used those little moments of settling toddler squabbles. I see that God used those weary repetitions of arithmetic facts. I see that God used things that I thought were insignificant, were generalized chores, were small, to build something so much bigger. Moment upon moment, day upon day.
I can see it in His Word now, with fresh eyes and appreciation. There are people in the Bible who get just a mention, sometimes with their name listed there, sometimes not. I wonder for them if they thought what they were doing would simply go to dust at the end of their lives. I mean, let’s face it, we focus on the ‘big’ names of Scripture, right? Those huge personalities who fought and failed and walked in faith, the ones we made Flannelgraphs of, ones we write books about today, our imaginations full of what life must have been like for them, what it would have been to have worn the crown over all of Israel or to have taken the promised land or to have been at the table at the Last Supper. I’m glad for those big characters.
But I’m also really thankful for the little ones. It’s there that I see what God can do, whatever the spotlight is on our life, vast or modest.
And here’s what speaks to me the most, in this tension of a ‘go big’ culture: He’s written all our names in His book of life. All of us. We each have an entry, where’s He’s taking it all in, the moments we are the leading role, the moments we are lost in the crowd. He’s there, watching it all, making it count, and just like any good parent, making it all a big deal.
Little things are big things. They are.
Be encouraged. If you’re in a spotlight season, enjoy it. And know it isn’t yours to own. And if you’re in a quiet season, soak it up. It matters.
It all matters. It all counts. And it all builds the eternal story.
Ready to be inspired to think bigger of the little things in your life? Take a look at my newest Bible study from Abingdon Women called Footnotes. We dig into the lives of four minor characters in scripture who have a big impact on our today. Their stories will help you rethink what really matters and how you evaluate the assignments in your own life, both the notable and the anonymous. Want to know more? You can check out the first session for free by clicking here.
