Joy in the Little Pieces

By Jessica Brodie

Have you ever been forced to do work you really can’t stand? It’s the only thing you can do, and you have to do it, yet you’re aching to do something, anything, else than the task before you? It’s frustrating, isn’t it?

That was me last week.

Most who know me understand I’m a “big picture” person. Unless it has to do with writing and editing, which as an obsessive reader come instinctively to me, the little details drive me bonkers. I like to vision and implement large-scale projects. Let’s put it this way—I’d much rather declutter the house and surface-clean my living room than get on my hands and knees to scrub the baseboards or the toilets.

Yet there I stood, hunched over in the hot sun with a broken foot on an in-state mission trip, focusing on the little details.

With my injury, I was limited on what I could actually do to help my team. I couldn’t get on the roof and strip off old shingles or nail down the new ones. So I did what I could and served as the ground crew. It was my job to cut shingles down to size for the team above me and, when there were no shingles to cut, to pick up tiny scraps of shingles and roof paper that had fallen out of the trash pile and cart them out to the heap by the road.

It was those tiny scraps that had me standing there, baking on the homeowner’s sundrenched lawn, picking up miniscule snippets mixed in with the individual blades of grass, that had me gritting my teeth and wishing beyond measure that I was on the roof doing the “fun work.”

What do you do when you’re forced out of your comfort zone to do the tasks that seem to be the most annoying?

Well, you do what you have to do. And you try to find the joy in it.

So that’s where I found myself, gloved fingers fishing out scraps, feeling a bit … alone. As I worked, I could hear the laughter of the team on the roof above me. I could feel the unforgiving sun on my back and the sweat trickle down my neck. I mopped my sunscreened face and sighed.

And soon I realized … that breath I’d been holding for days, maybe weeks, slowly starting to exhale. That tension between my shoulder blades beginning to melt away.

I was actually beginning to relax.

And I began to enjoy myself.

There, alone, with only my thoughts for company, I could smell the flowers on a nearby tree. I could smell the bug spray on my ankles. My thoughts turned to the Lord, to creation, and soon I found myself humming an old hymn as I worked.

Joy began to flood my heart. The pressure was off. I didn’t have to worry about a big project or being in charge. I could just hunch over and collect the scraps and be content with that work.

It was a liberating moment.

Sometimes it takes getting forced to do things we don’t think we like to reach a new understanding about the internal pressures we put on ourselves. Getting out of our comfort zone helps us evolve on a spiritual level.

We think our comfort zone is a good and healthy place. But sometimes, it’s an obstacle, and the very thing we need to change.

In the hot summer sun, pushing aside my annoyance to pick up tiny scraps of trash for a woman in need, a newfound peace settled on my heart, and the humble joy of simply being, simply relaxing in the Lord, rested upon my soul.

Psalm 46:10 tells us, ““Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” (ESV).

Psalm 131:2 says, “But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”

Isaiah 26:3 says, “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.”

And 1 Samuel 12:16 says, “Now therefore stand still and see this great thing that the Lord will do before your eyes.”

Stand still. Quiet the soul. Keep in perfect peace.

All wise, good, and godly aspirations that draw us closer to our Creator and help us, slowly, be more like Christ.

Today, and all of this week, I invite you to spend some time in solitude. Spend some time feeling bored, lonely, or frustrated long enough that you’re able to push it aside to experience pure sensation, to appreciate the little things in life.

There is joy to be found in these little things.

Amen. Thanks be to God.

Here’s a picture of a little piece I picked up during my time as a scrap collector. I saved it to help me remember the lesson I learned this week: