This week has been busy. Full of the good, the mundane, the rush. A list of errands that requires six different stores on opposite sides of the city, some larger house chores that seem to always land on the same week, and the constant 'on-call' driving service I provide to my little social butterflies. It was a good week, but I was spent. It was 7:00pm, I had fed my humans, my list was accomplished, and I was dreaming of the melty feeling of being immersed in cool sheets and dimly lit quiet. Momma was done.
But just as I was about to announce my retirement from the day, my 15 year old bounded into the room with that exuberant smile.
"Mom! Can my friends come over in an hour? It's one of their birthday and they asked if they could spend it here?"
I took a deep breath, felt my dreams of soft pillows drifting away, and smiled.
"Of course."
This particular friend is not only lovely and kind to everyone he meets, but he also has a bummer home life. His father died 3 years ago, and his brothers have not handled it well. Home has become a very stressful place for him to be and he spends quite a bit of time at our house. We haven't known him very long, only a few months actually, but he has shown us his beautiful heart. He is extremely well liked by his peers and leaders. He's the guy who all the kids want to be friends with and the leaders pull to the side to tell him all the potential they see in him. He's a good one. And it was no small honor that he decided he wanted to spend his birthday at our house. I could see it in my daughters eyes. This was a big deal.
I flat out did not have the energy or time to run to the store, so I started digging through every cabinet in the house trying to scrounge up some semblance of pomp and circumstance. I found a polka dot flag banner, a box of angel food cake mix (which doesn't require eggs thankfully cause we were out), five birthday candles and a can of whipped cream. I handed my daughter a piece of paper and she drew a quick happy birthday sign. We taped up the banner and sign, quickly mixed and poured the cake mix into cupcake tins, did a whirlwind tidy up, and made it to the door just as they all arrived.
They laughed, they sang old Disney songs off key at the top of their lungs, they ate 18 giant angel food cupcakes, smothered in whipped cream, in shockingly little time. There was jubilee.
By 10:00 I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. This was not the night I planned. My 'job' was done for the day. I had done my duty. I had done it well. I had accomplished my goals, check marked my lists, bestowed wisdom upon my little humans. I was finished. I deserved that soft pillow against my cheek. I had earned it.
I wandered into the kitchen to wash a few dishes. They didn't know I was in ear shot. I overheard their conversation.
"This is the best birthday I have had in 5 years."
My heart broke. This was our left overs. This was what we could scrape together with moments notice. This was a hand written sign and the only baked good in the house that didn't require eggs.
This was our little, but to him, it was much.
I was so humbled in that moment.
I think sometimes we feel like our little is not nearly enough. We are presented with people all day, everyday, who have problems. Big problems, complicated problems, hard problems. And it can be intimidating. It can feel impossible that we might be able to affect change in any real way. I can't bring this boy's father back to life, I can't solve his family tensions, I can't say the right thing to erase the years of hurt from his heart. But this day, this night, when I was tired and clumsy and out of eggs, I could do something. I could rise to the occasion and do something.
Your little is worth something.
It might seem little to you, but it might be everything to them.