The American mentality is one of abundance. More is better. Bigger is better. Why settle for less when you could have more?
But what if that’s backward? What if we were meant to stay small?
What If I Can’t Be Anything I Want To Be
I remember growing up and hearing, “You can be anything you want to be.”
Not only was that idea extremely anxiety-inducing, but it was also a lie.
Of course, I understand what people (mostly) meant. I could go to school to study whatever interested me. There were fewer barriers to my success than ever before. If I worked hard enough, I could achieve whatever I put my mind to (also a loaded idea and certainly not true across the board, but that’s a post for another time, maybe).
But as we get older, it’s easier to see that we all have certain aptitudes and things we’re good at. While I could study to be a doctor, I don’t think I have the ability to parcel out someone’s meaning when they’re telling me how they feel. I mean, imagine how differently we all feel things in our bodies. And then to have to tell someone that… doctors have a hard job.
It’s the same with many jobs. I could study and learn how to perform the tasks, but there would be no heart in it. There would be a spark of natural talent and inclination missing.
Finding Contentment In My Sphere of Influence
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my life, and really looking at the life I live. You might have seen that thread in some of my recent writings. A few weeks ago, I wrote about haiku poetry and how it’s helping me to really home in on my days (no pun intended). Then last week, I wrote about being in my body and working to turn my brain off autopilot.
I think when I was younger, I thought I’d have a Big Important Job that would affect a lot of people. Maybe I imagined a wide circle of people knowing my name. Even in my 20s, I assumed I would have a job that directly impacted someone’s life. I felt (and still feel) drawn to non-profit work with underserved communities.
But as I get older, I realize that, likely, in the next 100 years, no one will remember my name. And I don’t mean that in a sad way. Not really. It’s more a realization of how little staying power our lives have. We’re here for a while, and we can certainly make a tangible difference in the world, but that change may or may not stick around. And we may or may not be remembered for it.
It’s unlikely that I’ll go on to leave a big, sweeping mark on the world that will change it, or have my name immortalized and remembered. I am not making a big contribution to the world at large.
And yet, as I raise my kids, I think about all the people they will meet and interact with. Sure, they are each their own people, but undoubtedly how I raise them influences how they move through the world.
I can teach them to keep their eyes open, to look for who needs a helper. I can teach them early that everyone experiences the world differently, and that matters in how we meet people where they are.
It Doesn’t Have to be Big to be Meaningful
Influence doesn’t have to be big to be meaningful. At one point, I thought my writing might pay the bills. I imagined being recognized and celebrated as an author. Maybe my writing would change the lives of millions of people. Or, when content creation really started taking off, I thought maybe that was my lane. But honestly, the idea of constantly showing up in front of strangers on the internet sounds exhausting.
Instead, what if the small ways I show up in the world are what really matter? What if my influence is passed on through the people I meet randomly every day? Rather than affecting people on a large scale, maybe I’m meant to have a smaller sphere.
While thinking through this, the parable of the leaven came to mind. Found in Matthew 13:33 and Luke 13:20-21, it doesn’t take up much space in Scripture. Maybe that’s intentional.
The kingdom of God is like yeast, mixed into 60 pounds of flour. Yeast is small. And alive. And it doesn’t take much to affect the flour, causing it to rise and respond.
There are at least 1,500 species of yeast, with probably more yet undiscovered. There is a variety of yeast for every need, just like we each have our own giftings and talents.
Yeast, mixed into flour, has a direct and visible effect. Yeast feeds off sugar and then gives off carbon dioxide. As carbon dioxide is released, it is trapped in the gluten in the flour, causing the flour to rise.
In the same way yeast affects flour, so do we affect our environment. No matter how small the interaction, what we put into the world may matter more than we’ll ever know.
Small Has Always Mattered
We have more influence in our everyday lives than we get credit for or realize.
The coffee you had with a friend on a random Tuesday morning probably meant more to her than you knew.
The way you interact with your child’s teacher and school staff subtly shows him how to be in the world.
The love you show your spouse directly affects the way they show up for work the next day.
Our sphere of direct influence might not be as wide as we were once led to believe it could (or should) be, but we are influencing the world subtly every day.
With age, I get more and more comfortable with the idea of a smaller sphere of influence.
I’m noticing how content I am in my small corner of the world. While in my teens and twenties I might have wished for fame and accolades, getting older brings things into sharper focus. Kids help hone focus, too. It’s enough for me to know that, in raising them, I am changing the world.
It may have been a bit of a lie that I could be whatever I wanted to be. Right now, I’m choosing to be the best mom, wife, and friend that I can. And that might have a bigger impact on the world than I’ll ever know.
