Little Things Mean A Lot

I am a believer that things come to you when you need them.

The other day, my husband Jim discovered a business card my dad had created, nestled behind something in my dad's workshop. My dad's workshop is a work of art—everything in its place, organized and saved by my father for one reason or another. It's a treasure trove. Spending time in his space, untouched by my mother's incessant purging, I feel like I'm discovering who my dad was for the very first time. Piece by piece, I'm putting together a puzzle I had no idea ever existed.

The card we found states:

"Little Things Mean A Lot"

I have no idea when this card was created. My dad has been gone for three years now, and all I can figure is that this card came after his McGowan Roofing Company card (which was made decades ago) and obviously before he passed away. I find myself wondering what exactly the purpose of this card was.

Back in the '90s, he started creating small dollhouses—two of which he gifted to Tammy and me. They hung on the wall and could be opened from the front. Did he make these business cards to represent a business idea that never came to fruition? Or was it meant to remind us to cherish the small moments? Was it his way of telling us to look for the tiniest blessings around us? Did he wander around Walmart parking lots placing these cards under random strangers' windshield wipers to offer a little encouragement?

I may never know.

One of my dad's dollhouses was gifted to Kenny and Anna as a card collection box at their wedding last November. With just a few minor updates, it became a "little thing" that meant a lot to our kids.

The house was pretty much all my dad's work. I created an opening at the top by adding a knob to the roof. Pull the knob, and the roof opens so guests could drop their cards inside.

I made the "Just Married" bunting, added their cats Diego, Dwayne, and Heather, and tucked a picture of the two of them behind the front door, peeking through.

It was so much fun to put together, and it felt like a little piece of Papa Ken was there celebrating with us.

But back to my dad's card.

I find this message from my dad especially funny because it's something I strive for myself. I try to look around wherever I am instead of looking down at my phone. It's good for your neck and posture, but more importantly, you notice things you would otherwise miss.

And can I just tell you, Costco is a place where being observant really pays off.

I got a selfie with the ever-so-awesome Tom Izzo.

I totally fangirled—and I'm perfectly okay with that. I would have completely missed out if I'd been staring at my phone.

That same day, I noticed a woman on her way to the shopping carts who was having trouble walking. Since I'd already grabbed my cart, I offered it to her. She was so grateful, and honestly, it made me feel good too.

Another time, about a year earlier, I was leaving Costco when I noticed a young woman standing behind a tire kiosk. She looked distraught and was fighting back tears.

I started to walk by, but then I pivoted and turned around—

—that little voice in my head telling me I needed to do something.

I gently asked, "Are you okay?"

She said she was fine and just needed to pull herself together. After talking for a few minutes, I learned her mother had died the day before.

Having gone through that myself when I lost my dad, I told her how strange it feels when someone you love dies. It feels like life should stop for a moment, yet everything just keeps moving forward as if nothing happened.

Her mom, she said, was her best friend, and this would be her first Easter without her.

We hugged for a long time.

Two strangers, decades apart in age, with seemingly nothing in common, comforting one another in a Costco.

She thanked me for noticing her. She said it meant the world to her that someone had seen her pain. That small interaction made all the difference in her day.

I gave her my card, but I never heard from her. I just wanted her to know that if she needed someone, I'd be happy to help.

I really hope she's doing well.

And just the other day, my husband Jim was going through a Dunkin' drive-through when he noticed a man in a nearby parking lot who looked like he needed help. Jim rolled down his window and told the man he'd be right back after dropping our son off at work.

True to his word, Jim returned.

The man's name was Jeremiah. He needed to use a phone, and while sitting with him in the parking lot, Jim helped him figure a few things out. They ended up having a really nice conversation.

Honestly, Jeremiah just needed someone to listen. He needed reassurance that people do, in fact, care about one another.

No money exchanged hands.

It wasn't about that.

It was about being observant.

It was about noticing.

It was about helping.

Maybe that's what my dad's card meant all along.

Little things really do mean a lot.

I didn't pick this 4 leaf clover, I admired it and saved it for someone else to find.

Until next time!