The Small Things

A quiet reading.

This morning, a good friend wrote about the ministry of providing showers to people experiencing homelessness.

As I read his words, I found myself back in Honduras on a mission trip many years ago. We stayed in what I would describe as a barrio, safe for outsiders only because a Maryknoll priest sponsored us there. He was trusted. We were with him.

We had a shower. It was little more than a bucket of cold water.

For me, there was no option but to shower that way. But it was more than uncomfortable. Until then, a warm shower had simply been part of life. Not a luxury. Not even a choice. Just something assumed.

There is an important conversation to be had about ministries like Moving Waters and what they reveal about dignity, poverty, and the world we have built together.

But this morning, something smaller stayed with me.

Here I am now, taking a shower in a comfortable home in an upper-middle-class neighborhood. And somewhere along the way, showering became a small thing. Something I can put off when I feel lazy. Something I can skip if I do not need to be around people. Something easy to overlook because it is always there.

But it is not a small thing.

For much of the world, it would be considered a great gift.

As life changes shape for me, I find myself paying more attention to these ordinary things. Not because they will change the world, but because they change me.

The small things keep returning me to my humanity.

And sometimes, quietly, to God.

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