The motion light burned out just as I was pulling under the carport. Would I be able to get up there with a ladder, remove it and find a replacement for a 20-year-old light?

The back door key only went into the lock about half way. I jiggled and wiggled and twisted it, but it would not enter, turn nor unlock. This deadbolt and door date back to the beginning of the cabin. Will I have to cut into the door, find a new bolt to fit or replace the whole door?

As I cranked open one of the porch’s jalousie windows, the handle came off in my hand. Had the inner rings worn down? I knew there were more window panes in the boathouse, but how to affix this handle?

Right now, it feels like so many things are falling apart. From these “Little Things” that reroute life for shorter moments, to unexpected illness, accidents and tragedies at all levels. I tend to jump right to worst case scenarios, followed by, “It could be worse.”

During my longer foray at the cabin, in the woods, at the end of a long, winding, rutted lane, on my own. . . I react differently than when at home, with nearby neighbors and a more readily available support system. Here, when something happens to thwart daily progress, I feel a gut-punch before my brain kicks into paths toward resolutions. I have to get a grip, breathe and quiet my racing imagination. Think. Maybe some of the voices in my head are trying to get through and help. Maybe my dad still inhabits the boathouse, tool kits and is trying to guide me.

One at a time, I face my Little Things:

  1. Before buying a new motion light, I checked the shelf in the cabin where we store lightbulbs. My parents always kept extras for the “just in case” next time. There, in the back, a box with one, brand new motion light left of two. Was it a fit? It was!
  2. Once, when we were locked out, Dad took a ladder, climbed to the loft window, unhinged it and crawled through. I do not do ladders when I am alone. Not an option. I was taught to persevere, sometimes beyond reason! After 15 highly charged, tense minutes, the key worked its way in and the door opened.

    But, what of next time? Here is where I like to believe my dad entered in. Out of somewhere, using 3-in-One oil floated into my thoughts. It was right where Dad left it. A few squirts later, the key easily moved to lock and unlock the vintage door.

  3. With that, I turned to the porch window and the detached crank. The tool box provided an assortment of screwdrivers. I found a Phillip’s head and gently worked the screw and handle together. It slid back into the frame plate. Bravo! It was not stripped out after all.

Little things, but such a relief to move away from them and forward into some things I wanted to figure out.

I wanted to hang a small, $3.00, woven basket from Monday’s Flea Market over the electric outlet, thinking it would work as a phone holder while being charged. Brilliant! When I looked at the spot, there was an open knot hole, making a hanger impossible. Maybe an “S” hook would work. After an unsuccessful trip to the hardware store, I was (again) guided to the boathouse.

And there, in the plastic box sectioned off to store nails and screws. . . just what I needed.

Finally, when traveling in Georgia, I was intrigued by houses with Blue Bottle Trees – to ward off evil spirits, among other things. When walking by the six-foot remaining stump of a balsam right behind the cabin, it came to me. Drill some holes, buy some dowels and slip the blue bottles over them and voila, a Blue Bottle Tree.

Now if I . . .  I paused.  One thing leads to another.

If you remember the sitcoms Bewitched and I Dream of Jeanie, perhaps you experienced the human phenomenon of ideas expanding exponentially in size and quantity.

As a kid, I already imagined having the twitch of a nose magically put my toys away, but why not ask for more toys? Or, a play room? Or, why not a bigger house? These leaps were speedy and spontaneous.

As an adult, I am surrounded by what I am coining as, The Manifest Destiny Syndrome, the continued need to acquire land, bigger bulldozers, more big-boy-toys, to political takeovers. Even the wilderness isn’t safe from the encroachment of dividing acreage on land or government undoing public lands. Lake associations are fighting off wake boats. Surfing past loon nests, through lily pads and between kayakers? Really?

The Small Things might just be an “S” hook or showing up at a meeting to restrict certain watercraft or building regulations. The Small things do add up. They do count. They can be negative or positive.  Yes, they add up, but so do the fixes.

Inhale. Catch your breath. Step back. What do you envision? Manifest desired outcomes. Reach out to others, for help or to help. Be the light or seek the light as you process the BIG THINGS, by reducing them into Little Things.

We’ve got this!

Share a Little Thing you can do today that will help lead to a better Big Thing?