Small is beautiful. This was the theme of a homily I heard a few weeks ago when attending mass with my dad and my grandfather. I had been having a rough week at work – truly struggling in my efforts to break down the walls a camper had prematurely built in resistance to authority – and this simple sentence gave me the clarity I craved and the will power to keep chipping away at the resilient materials used to fashion a barrier.

After a week-long battle, I think my fellow counselors and I have finally weakened this camper’s defense mechanisms just enough to garner conversation and more mellowed out behavior. Now, don’t get me wrong, this pre-teen still has his outbursts and tantrums, but he has shown us that he is a great kid underneath all the anger and frustration. I truly hope that this sudden transformation is not short-lived, because it is a wonderful sight to see the real child as opposed to the attention stealing façade he was putting on for all to see.

One instance in particular stands out in my mind as the moment that made me think our efforts were finally paying off. The day started out rough as per usual. By “rough,” I mean that there were multiple spats between fellow campers and counselors and minutes were unfortunately taken away from some much-needed pool time. When we arrived back from the pool and free time was in full swing, I noticed the resilient camper teaching one of the younger campers how to play a complex card game. Now, these two campers do not particularly get along, so immediately my attention focused on the teachable moment happening right before my eyes. I sat by pretending to focus on my own task because I was shocked that these two campers were sitting down together and no arguments had flared up.

The older child was explaining the rules of the game in multiple ways to ensure that the younger child understood the concept. Every time the younger camper had questions, the older camper would answer them and ask for clarity to make sure the younger child understood. I even watched as the older camper helped the younger camper win a round even though he could have taken advantage and awarded himself an easy win. This was another one of those small moments that put a giant smile on my face and brightened an otherwise horrible day.

In my life, I tend to notice only the obscenely obvious signs and occurrences; I don’t pay much attention to the little defining moments until much later when I find the time to reflect. I wish I spent my days basking in the silence of a morning MadLibs activity, listening to the occasional suggestions from one camper to the next, or the unexpected compliment on a shirt that you never found particularly flattering on your body shape before.

Today I even found myself in a fit of laughter after catching my mother dancing to the cheesy tune of a commercial in my peripherals. Small is beautiful. These snapshots from my day mean more to me than the larger picture, which seems a little backwards considering the common saying is to “look at the bigger picture.” When it comes to the roller coaster that is my life, I would much rather focus on the minuscule moments because ultimately, these are the memories that stick out the most.

However, it is more difficult to filter through the muddy mess of the day, searching for the one moment that will bring a broad smile to your fallen face. It is even more difficult to refrain from focusing on one negative occurrence in comparison to an otherwise lovely day at work.

Just the other day, I had walked a camper to her waiting mother, and when I turned to re-enter the building, I realized I had locked myself out. After freaking out for a few moments and seriously contemplating a method of breaking in, I realized how ridiculous of a predicament I had found myself in. I decided to wait it out until another parent showed up, and she was gracious enough to call my coworker to come and rescue me from the temporary vestibule sized inferno I was stuck in.

The funniest part about this situation is that it is not the first time I had locked myself out of a building. A few months ago, I had invited some friends over for brunch. Once they arrived, I realized that I had waited entirely too long to take out the trash, so I grabbed the hefty bag, and meandered down the steps to the dumpster in the parking lot.

After I disposed of the trash bag, I turned to go back upstairs, and the door was locked. In that moment, I proceeded to act out every cheesy movie scene where someone forgets an item. I rummaged through all my pockets, and it turns out I left both my keys and my phone upstairs with my friends. I spent a solid 25 minutes running around the building from one door to the next hoping someone would be coming or going. Of course, as my luck would have it, no one did. I even took a wild guess at the location of my living room window and began chucking rocks at the glass. I learned real quick that I have terrible aim and the upper body strength of a small child. Eventually, my friends realized that I had been gone for far too long and came to my rescue. I had spent almost a half hour in forty-degree snowy weather trying to break into my own apartment building as my friends chit chatted and ate my food. I certainly got the shorter end of the stick that day.

As you can see, my life is littered with smaller moments that I have the power to either make the most of or dwell on their negative appearance. Small is beautiful. I choose to see the humor in the aftermath because if I didn’t, I would not have the determination and tenacity to see beneath the facades children put on; I choose to see the true child. As always, the killer combo of coffee and finding beauty in the small moments keeps me going with a smile on my face and true intentions laced on my heart.