::: little things mean a lot :::

Blow me a kiss from across the room
Say I look nice when I'm not
Touch my hair as you pass my chair
Little things mean a lot.

Do you ever find yourself so tickled by some simple thing that you stop to look at it, to admire it, to see if it's just as gorgeous as you remembered it was, over and over again? Sometimes it's the perfect pumpkin pie you crafted with your own hands, complete with little cutout crust pumpkins and leaves dotting its deliciously orange-brown surface. Sometimes it's a small oak writing desk that you didn't think you could afford but you bought (and still use today) when your mother-in-law gave you money from the bonus check she hadn't been expecting. Sometimes it's a stack of vintage school books--Halliburton and Herriot and Hillyer--that came in the mail and you placed just so on your little white nightstand. Sometimes it's your children sleeping while the eastern sun streams through their windows, which is no simple thing, but still, it can make you stop and take a second peek. And a third.

Give me your arm as we cross the street
Call me at six on the dot
A line a day when you're far away
Little things mean a lot

And sometimes it's that gorgeous yellow glass lamp with the faux oil-rubbed brass feet that you saw at Your Favorite Thrift Store last week but were too strapped for cash to pay the six dollars that was stamped on the sticky yellow price tag. But, oh happy day, when you went back on half-price day, the half-price tag just happened to be yellow, and the lamp with the yellow tag just happened to still be there!

Don't have to buy me diamonds or pearls
Champagne, sables, and such
I never cared much for diamonds and pearls
'cause honestly, honey, they just cost money

But even for three dollars, you stood and deliberated, "Do I really *need* another lamp?" and "Where will I put it?" even though you knew that it matched the colors of your piano room so well. So, with some encouragement from your young daughter, you bought it, and you found just the right lampshade for it, and you took it home. And you immediately saw where it should live out the rest of its bright lampy days. Oh, yes. On the dry-brushed green thrift store stand right by the front door. And when you plug it in, OH JOY! you find that it has a little bulb in the yellow glass base, too, and it makes the perfect hall nightlight when the base is lit all alone, which you can do, which is another special little surprise.

Give me a hand when I've lost the way
Give me your shoulder to cry on
Whether the day is bright or gray
Give me your heart to rely on

And you find yourself returning to it, just to admire it again, and asking family members how they like it. And they tell you. Again. That they still like it. And you even find yourself taking photos of it. And posting them on your blog. And writing about it. You actually sit at your little oak writing desk at 12:36 AM and write about your yellow glass lamp.

Send me the warmth of a secret smile

To show me you haven't forgot
For now and forever, that's always and ever
Honey, little things mean a lot

It's those little things, though, isn't it? Those little things, doggone it, are the things that help us through the big things, like financial worry and boys in high school and family problems and sons going to Africa and health concerns and that big, scary thing called The Future. If it weren't for those little things, life would get pretty darn hard to handle sometimes.

Thank you, God for that lamp, and for all things, both big and little.

But, today, especially for the little things.

Honey, little things mean a lot.