I have a fascination with tiny things. I love studying the intricacies of beads, especially Botswana agate and ocean jasper. I love coming across flowers smaller than my fingernail, especially wildflowers of any sort. I love finding bugs that have amazing detail and are just as small.

Big and flashy things seem rude to me. They call attention to themselves. They overdo it. Huge baubles and immense flowers virtually yell “Look at me!” Now I can certainly respect a peony or a hydrangea, but I’ll never plant one. Oddly, I do like crepe myrtles, but perhaps part of that is they are part tree and part flower. Perhaps partly I love them because they are uniquely Southern. But when I think about it, their flowers are big bunches of tiny flowers. It isn’t one big flower getting all the attention.

I wonder if part of my love of tiny things comes from the fact that I have very bad eyesight. I see things better if they are right up in front of my nose. Perhaps part of it comes from beading, where I’d see amazing swirls and details on the sides of beads while creating a necklace. Sadly, the details were obscured once the design was created. Only I knew about the hidden beauty.

It is amazing to me to come across a tiny insect. Sometimes I’ll find a flying bug that is smaller than a quarter of my fingernail. It is intricate and perfect. It is hard to believe that it can even exist. When I find such a bug, I think God must be showing off, saying “Look what I can do!” This creature has a brain and eyes and stomach and wings all in such a small space. Tiny flowers are amazing, but tiny bugs are magic.

Perhaps it is human nature to compare everything to ourselves. It if it that tiny, it can’t possibly matter. It can’t possibly be important. But it is, and it does. And maybe there is something in that which needs to be noticed.