Little is Much

Moderation. Such a good word. So inviting. So elusive.

There are probably a number of words to describe me, some good, some not so good. Most would agree that moderate is not one of them. I am always on one side or the other of the moderate, well ordered path of life. I can't do anything just a little bit. And this is not a good thing. We are used to hearing people praise such "dedication" (meaning, lunacy). But it's really a character flaw.

It is such a gift to be a moderate person. I look at people who go out and run 3 miles and they are happy. I run none because I can no longer run 26. I took up knitting a few years ago. I bought all of the supplies, had someone teach me how to do it, and took off, knitting about 4 hours at night. My hands were literally injured from knitting. I stopped to recuperate. I still have a bag of unfinished scarves in my house. I also love to ride my bike on trails. But my husband always looks defeated when I suggest we go ride. That means 20 miles at breakneck speed. 

Most of my lack of moderation is comical (I won't even go into my fixations at various times in my life with scrapbooking, house cleaning, and my obsessive but ultimately failed attempt to organize a dodgeball team at work). Some of it is not comical. In college, during swim practice one season, the team did a long-distance set, 7,000 yards nonstop (that's approximately 4.5 miles). I decided to do it butterfly. The next year, to up the ante, I did 8,000 yards, butterfly again, with the additional "rule" that I had to breath every other stroke the whole way. This is not dedication. It's nuts.  I hurt my shoulders doing this. The point? To say I did it. To knock myself down if I failed. 

Funny, though, God has helped me settle in to some level of near-moderation these days. Through prayer and, frankly, the ability to laugh at myself (which I also attribute to God), I have actually acquired a bit of moderation--just a bit. I learned to swim for exercise somewhere between floating and Olympic Training Camp. I manage to maintain my house at an acceptable level of cleanliness, neither a pig sty nor an immaculate show place. I've even taken bike rides with my nine year old daughter Devon, whose idea of cycling is brief pedaling followed by frequent stopping to look at and talk to every woodland creature that scurries by.

Downhere, my current Christian rock obsession (OK, so I'm not cured), has a song called "Little is Much."  

What is the measure of a life well lived

If all I can offer seems to small to give?

This is a song for the weaker, the poorer

And so-called failures.

Little is much when God's in it

And no one can fathom the plans He holds.

Little is much when God's in it

He changes the world with the seeds we sow. 

I think God was not impressed with my "big" feat of long distance butterfly. I think he was well pleased with my ability to spend time with my daughter, biking at something other than competitive speed.  

It's little. But it's much.