Small Strings Make Big Things
The sound of my alarm seeped its way into my conscious mind at 4:33 am. It was the start of summer,
yet my teacher-self found my hand pushing snooze, and consequently bumbling my way out of bed a
mere fifteen minutes later. In the dark of the morning I quickly showered, filled my two water bottles,
grabbed some breakfast for the road, snagged my backpack, and headed out to my car.
I put the waters in their place. I went through a mental checklist of what I would need for the day, and
headed back inside. I walked up my creaky stairs, mindful of the handrail I was holding; the one that
had been cut off and re-attached so we could get our queen-sized bed up to the master bedroom just a
few years before. The chipped paint on the door hanging outside of my daughter’s bedroom made me
sigh as I pushed it open, only to be greeted by the ever-blaring Rock-A-Bye-Baby coming from the
sound machine. Oh, how I hate that thing! I gently nudged my half naked five-year-old into presence
and softly said, “Good morning beautiful girl, it’s time to get up.”
Unfortunately, my sweet Avalene is not always so sweet in the morning. On this particular day, she
thankfully moved to the edge of her loft bed without a fight, wrapped her arms around my neck, and
allowed herself to be carried down into the living room. I remembered to keep the main light off, as
her sensitive eyes couldn’t handle the bright beams so early in the morning… so she claimed. In reality,
her extra sensitivity was most likely linked to Twinkles the unicorn having another round of babies in
her bed last night, and Miss Avalene stayed up caring for the herd well past a reasonable bedtime.
I got my daughter settled in on the couch and soon found my feet swiftly heading back up the stairs to
repeat the process with my two-year-old son. God be praised, he wakes up like a charm. A charm that
demands dinosaurs, his blanket, and a brief round of morning snuggles, all before devouring his usual
banana and waffles.
We arrived downstairs where the crying for the day began as my eldest, his sister, was sitting on his
self-proclaimed part of the couch. There were further tears as the kids were told no t.v. and my
daughter struggled with the life-altering decision of what to take with us in the car to eat. She finally
decided on, “You choose for me, but no toast.” Followed by, “No, not that!” Then the ultimate, “Ugh,
fine… just give me one piece of toast with a granola bar.” Mothers of the world, I trust you know this
struggle and you are in my prayers!
We eventually made it through the marathon of getting everyone’s shoes on. My husband came down
to kiss the kids goodbye. We buckled them in the car, then I made yet another run back into the house
to grab my purse that I’d forgotten. With the keys finally in the ignition, I took a few deep breaths
before I put the car in drive and headed out into the construction just down the block.
For me, this is the typical start to my morning. While I allow some flow in my schedule throughout
different seasons of the year, sometimes waking up earlier or later to meet the demands of my
schedule, sleeping in is rarely an option. I fit my morning prayer in during the car ride when I am
unable to resist hitting snooze. I often say my rosary through the incessant “Mom…Mom…MOM”
mantra that echoes in the back of my Chevy Traverse. Some days are easy, and I feel like I am acing this
whole mom, wife, coach, teacher, and all the other things gig. But, if I’m honest, most days take an
extra prayer and a pep talk. I find myself questioning what I’m working for or snapping at my children
as a result of my own inadequacies as a mother who takes on too many tasks. Yet, I strive each day to
move forward in any way I can.
Showing up and being mindfully aware of how I react to these situations, that matters. These little
things make a difference. They are the bits of motherhood that you can’t quite ever understand until
you are living them, and they are the ones that will make or break your sanity as a parent. The
swallowing of frustration. The extra round of patience. The balance of accountability and grace. The
extra deep breaths. The saying, “It’s okay, accidents happen,” repeatedly. The hopeful waiting for a
moment of silence. The guilt-ridden prayers for an early bedtime. The longing for a nap. The making
time for your husband when you are utterly exhausted. The loving your children through it all, and yet,
acknowledging that mom life is really stinking hard, all at the same time.
For me, the stringing together of small, sometimes seemingly insignificant moments and tasks is what
makes this life so beautiful. I mean, if I had to rate my contributions to the world on my big impacts, I’d
probably end up in bed with a box of Kleenex, some dairy-free ice cream, and a new Netflix series
playing on my phone, as I floundered in my smallness. Instead, I can soak up the warmth of God’s love
in knowing that the small things I do with such love, they matter. I can make a difference in a day by
simply being mindful of how I approach the world around me through a smile, a kind word, or the
completion of a mundane task I didn’t want to do. I can ask God to use me in ways I hadn’t imagined,
and actually listen when He responds. I can approach the world with a love and kindness that will pain
me at times, and I can be honest with myself about when I take the easy, less kind, road instead. I can
strive to remain open to the ways in which God chooses to utilize my gifts. I can leave behind the paths
that are no longer leading to my calling, and travel new roads paved by Christ, even when it is terrifying
and uncertain. These are the ways I feel God call to me. These are my little contributions to make my
corner of the world just a little more beautiful.
While it is easy to lose sight of the significance of the small, all of the small strings we accept as
mothers and women, weave into beautiful masterpieces. Often, we don’t see it ourselves, but those
around us do. For example, I draw strength from both of my parents, who I pray are joyfully dancing in
heaven. They both lived their lives dedicated to uplifting others, and they have inspired me to do the
same. While I am quite certain that neither parent often felt like they were making huge changes in
this world, after being there to witness their celebrations of life, it was quite obvious that they did.
Their small acts rippled out into the world in really big ways.
When I find myself feeling lost, or my life is feeling less meaningful, I seek out those who have been in
my place and forged ahead into the fire. Those individuals are not only those that walk among us, but
those who have walked before us in faith. I am deeply inspired by St. Teresa of Avila who has invaded
my heart from the time of pregnancy with my first child. Her wisdom pushes me to remain disciplined
in prayer, and I yearn to make contemplation a part of my busy day-to-day life. I find myself regularly
asking for the intercession of St. Anthony for all my lost items, St. Isadore the farmer, St. Hildegard of
Bingen, St. Maria Goretti, St. Monika, St. Ignatius, St. Josemaria Escriba, St. Joseph, and at the center
of them all, our Blessed Mother Mary.
While the saints inspire me, it is easy to get caught up in the ends of their story, while ignoring the
control, hurt, and fortitude of the process of living love. At these times, I must remind myself that we
are all a work in progress. As my daughter said to me the other day when I was putting on my makeup,
“You don’t have to be perfect mom, you just have to be you.” This is what God asks of us, to be more
fully ourselves. So, today I ask you to contemplate what small, loving acts, fully reflect you. Do those
things. Do them with love. Do them with hope. Whether it’s doing the dishes, feeding your chickens, or
smiling at the crabby neighbor, trust that God sees you, and that the small things matter. You don’t
have to do it all, but commit to doing the “little” well and with love. After all, small strings can make big
things. You do the little, and let God orchestrate the big.
** Comments or questions? You can reach Kylie at kylie@wewellwalk.com or visit her website here.
Kylie is currently on Instagram @wewellwalk, but will be rebranding soon as she prepares to transition
to a more faith-centered platform to continue her blog and to launch Ignatian Inspired group coaching
programs for young adult women.
If you are a teacher or coach, you can also reach Kylie at kylie@trifluencecoaching.com, or read more
about provided services here.
Kylie is an ambitious, mission driven, wife and mother of two. Kylie has a MA in ministry, a passion for Jesus, and bleeding heart for the injustices of the world. Kylie is a zealous self-starter and co-founder of two small businesses. The first includes Ignatian inspired life coaching for women, while the other is centered on empowering educators, coaches, and athletes with the tools to cultivate a culture of growth mindset and accountability. In addition, Kylie teaches middle-school and high-school math at a small Catholic school in Nebraska. She is the head high-school volleyball coach and girls middle-school track coach at her workplace. Kylie claims that although these things are her titles and do not dictate her identity, these acts of service fully encompass the ways in which she is striving to serve God in all of the small things. Some of Kylie’s favorite pastimes include park workouts with her kids, dancing to live music with her husband, journaling, and exploring.
