For Want Of A Nail

For want of a nail, a shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe, a horse was lost.
For want of a horse, a rider was lost.
For want of a rider, a battle was lost.
For want of a battle, a war was lost.
All for the want of a nail.

Today, it is popular to say, "Don't sweat the small stuff!"  Like many cliches, I think it depends on the perspective.  As you can see from my lead-in, whoever first wrote these lines understood the need to sometimes examine the "small stuff".

A couple of the schools, that I serve with my bus, have metal covered walkways between buildings and from one door to another.  In the spring of the year, barn swallows have taken to building their nests in the rafters, above the lights, and anywhere else they feel safe.  Some folks, adults and children, pay them no mind.  I love them.  They work so hard to build secure nests and lay their eggs.  As near as I can tell, both parents take part in sitting on the nest and in feeding the hatchlings.  They don't seem to have many enemies who can reach the nests and I enjoy watching fuzzy heads raise up to greet a feeding.  Most new sparrows have left the nest by now, but there are still a few left hatching and feeding.  Here is the small thing that has me a bit disturbed.  Today, these walkway covers were being pressure washed; birds, nests, fledglings, and all.  It is just a small thing.  The world won't miss a few more sparrows, will it?  I can't help but wonder, why couldn't this job be left for a couple more weeks?  Didn't anyone care or not want to "sweat the small stuff"?

You already know that I have a very liberal bent.  What you also ought to know is that for these couple of examples, there is at least one other side, but neither side causes many folks to sweat the small stuff.

In Columbine, Colorado, two students killed or wounded more than 30 at a high school before committing suicide.  From my view point, if guns were very much harder to obtain, perhaps this tragedy would not have occurred.  It is hard to imagine hacking that many to death with bayonets!  Still we continue to argue over gun control.  Most would say, "It wouldn't happen here.  Why sweat the small stuff?"

We sit in Congress and vote to tell a woman what she legally can and cannot do with her body.  I may be rare, I just don't know, in that I would not support abortion as an easily available means of childbirth prevention, but I absolutely would not put myself in the position of trying to tell any woman what she may or may not do in regards to abortion and her own body.  This has to be a choice between the woman, her doctor, and her God.  Yet, since abortion decisions do not and will not be a part of most of our lives, we are unwilling to make a strong statement or take a firm stand.  We just don't "sweat the small stuff."

School bullying can be terribly destructive (witness the docu-drama just lately at the theater - well worth seeing if you have a chance).  Most of us would say, "my son (or daughter) isn't a bully," or "my son isn't being bullied," or "I don't even have kids in school," or "don't we pay people to look after things like that?"  If it doesn't directly impact us, we just don't "sweat the small stuff", although we might well begin to prepare for another Columbine.

I can't bring about world peace, but I can be more friendly to one person.  I can't stop world hunger, but I can see that one more child is adequately fed each day.  I can't save every sparrow, but I can write a letter explaining the problem as I see it - maybe the solution is as simple as nicely calling attention to the problem.  I can't help but feel that the world would slowly, but surely, become a better place if we all find an appropriate way to "sweat the small stuff."

Considering Numbers

The hours that most folks are asleep bring very little peace to me.  I know others who battle depression who have the same type of nights, either awake in the dark or nightmares.  Frankly, since my nightmares scare me (and have been known to cause me to attack Sara in her sleep and to dive off the bed, face first, into the nightstand trying to fight it), I would rather be awake.  Sometimes I read.  Sometimes I let my mind ramble and just go wherever it might take me.

In the very wee hours of the morning today, I thought.  First, I thought about the state of my prostate.  Even though I have a good friend who has just lately been diagnosed with prostate cancer, a digital exam is not something that one just rejoices in having done.  Then I tried to remember all that I know about Alzheimer.  This was probably triggered by a James Garner movie that Sara and I watched together yesterday afternoon.  I either don't know much or I can't remember what I know.  Given the topic, I hope that its just that I don't know much! After thinking through those two things, my mind drifted to the consideration of numbers.

I thought about the number 14, as in May 14, and the fact that I am now officially 67 years old.  When I was 30, that seemed really OLD!  Now that I have reached that age, it doesn't seem too old at all.  Actually, having a wife in her 60s and children in their 40s makes me feel older than just being 67.  How could I possibly have reached such a dreadful state!  Where did that young chick and cute kids disappear to?

What if I had a million dollars!  I have some concept of what I could buy with a million.  I drive through neighborhoods, each day, where the value of houses range pretty close to that figure, plus or minus.  But, say I didn't want to buy a million dollar house.  How many new cars would I be able to buy if I went to my local Ford dealer and spent the whole wad on cars?  How many hungry people could I feed if I donated it all to a charitable organization?  You see what I mean?  It is the same million dollars, but the concept of spending it can become mind boggling based on where you do that.  Now, I thought, what if I had a billion dollars?  How many million dollar houses could I buy?  The arithmetic of trying to figure how big of a neighborhood I could own made my eyes cross.  I don't ever expect to have a million dollars and certainly not a billion, so I decided not to worry about those numbers any more either.

Then I got to thinking about family and friends in heaven.  I really don't like crowds, but, in all modesty, I fully expect all the angels and saints to rejoice when I finally get there.  The problem becomes one of numbers.  I really want to rejoin people I have known and loved on this side of the divide.  How am I going to find them among the whole crowd of saints waiting to shake my hand and pat my back?  Maybe God will allow me to do it like testing a strange swimming pool.  Maybe I can just stick a toe into heaven and see if I recognize anyone first.  Since I don't have an answer to that number problem nor do I know anyone who might, I shifted my thinking to a really big number... eternity!

When I get to heaven, I want to be one of the loudest voices in singing praises to God.  In fact, I am now.  I can't help but notice that folks at church, when I really start belting out praise songs, tend to move a bit more away from me, undoubtedly so that they can capture the full nuances of my voice.  So, as I am still laying awake in bed, here's where I started to worry about eternity.  I certainly enjoy singing and I don't know what heaven might have in store, but I'll tell you, a whole eternity of having to listen to my own singing might grow just a tad bit tedious.  Maybe I'll get to choose several different means of praising the Lord.  David danced naked.  Maybe I could volunteer for that.

The next two numbers I considered were 4:15 a.m. and 21.  4:15 a.m. is the time that the alarm goes off to get me out of bed, usually just as I have finally drifted off to sleep.  21 is the number of days left that I have to set the alarm and actually get out of bed.  As I turned off the alarm and drug myself out of bed, I was thinking that the next time I have a really great nightmare, I'll blog about it.  I just know that you will be waiting with baited breath!