Dream Small

My hands grip the steering wheel, my throat is tight, and a single tear forms and falls from the corner of my eye. I don’t wipe it away, but allow it to meander down my cheek as testimony to what has hurt me.

I stop at a red light, and as I’m waiting I notice a white-haired man pushing a shopping cart on the sidewalk across the road. His is a familiar face in this city; he is said to be a kind soul. I’ve only ever seen him in the distance.

The light turns green and I move forward into the intersection. The white-haired man lifts his face, our eyes connect, and he smiles. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen such a genuine smile.

I wish I could say I took the gift of that moment and passed it on to someone else, but I can’t. I’m not pleased with that part of myself. But maybe all is not lost because in the grace of this morning I can still see that smile, and the memory of it reminds me to give it away.

As I tap out these words I think of a song playing on the satellite radio when I left home that day. Dream small the singer, Josh Wilson, said.  Don’t buy the lie that you’ve got to do it all. These simple moments change the world. 

© 2018 Josh Wilson, Writers of Black River

(Hear the entire song here.)


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
1 comment
  1. Sorry someone hurt you…hugs…

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