Humble Tasks with Profound Purpose

“Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.” ~Mother Teresa

Is it just my imagination, or has this Michigan winter been harsher than those of years past? Had I kept track, I'd estimate about ten to fifteen days lived underneath a relentless gray sky. Then came a single day of sunshine--a tease and a much-needed reprieve--before the clouds returned, once again blanketing the sky in an all-too familiar gray. In conversation after conversation, the weather often came up as a quiet lament and shared weariness. Spring felt long overdue. Yet as the days steadily warmed, I could feel the subtle lift in the spirits of those around me.

With spring here, I gave thought to seasonal traditions I’m most looking forward to. Some of us may have more formal practices, such as gatherings with family to celebrate annual holidays. I think there are also less obvious, informal seasonal customs that call for our greater attention. One such practice I’m eager for is watching more people enjoy nature. In my neighborhood, people are always out walking and relishing the fresh air. Last summer, I observed a neighbor who had an endearing routine. At first, its meaning escaped me, but with closer attention, I learned an important lesson.

My neighbor, John, is among the most joyful, kind, and gracious individuals I’ve ever met. On many spring and summer days, you can find him zooming around the neighborhood in his motorized wheelchair, blasting music on his phone from classic artists like Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, or Louis Armstrong. I often open my windows when he travels by to allow his lively music to fill the room. 

Outside my window stands a welcoming, community bench under a shady tree for residents to enjoy. One day a week, I witnessed John soaring past my house with music on and a spray bottle of cleaner in his hand. He drove next to the bench, parked, and tenderly wiped it clean. As I paid closer attention, I noticed the maintenance crew arrived to tend to the grounds the next day. Whether John knew it or not, the maintenance crew sat on the bench to eat and enjoy their lunch each week between work hours. With all of the hard work they put in, I was touched by the fact that the bench was one less thing they had to tend to. Instead, they could sit and enjoy it, thanks to John.

After I noticed the maintenance crew, John’s delight while cleaning the bench became more apparent to me. He accomplished the task with a distinct joy and purpose, mysteriously intertwined with pride and humility. He seemed to take great pride in his kind act, yet humbly did it for the enjoyment of others. It reminded me of the well-known quote by Mother Teresa: “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.”

John’s actions served as a reminder to be the type of person who does small acts of love without seeking validation. John taught me that perhaps “great love” isn’t compatible with seeking praise. Bob Goff describes it as being “secretly incredible.” When we eliminate the fanfare of culture, I think we can experience deep joy from thoughtful acts. John might be one of the most “secretly incredible” folks I’ve met. That’s the kind of presence that can disarm and remind you of what’s most important. What is a “secretly incredible” thing you can do for someone this week?

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Photocred: Unsplash