“The smallest deed is greater that the greatest intention.” – John Burroughs

The Smallest Deed

It was a small thing and it started with a short text message.

“Are you in town?”  Barry Smith asked.

“Yes.” I responded.

“Oh, good!”  He said.  “I’m out of town and I was wondering if you could help Andre.”

Andre Paczocha is a friend of ours.  And, not too many years ago he was almost given up for dead!  He was in an automobile accident.  A bad one!  In fact.  The steering wheel and the driver’s side of his car’s dashboard tried their hardest to replace his heart within seconds of an errant driver’s incursion.  After saving his life, Andre’s attending physician said, “All I can say Andre, is that you must be too stubborn to die!”

Yes.  Andre lived, but his life has changed in innumerable ways.  Things that were once simple and easy for him have become burdensome and difficult.  At least he can walk pretty well now.  He can amble forward for a way and then he has to stop and catch his breath, because his heart has never been the same after the accident.

“If you can think of every heart ailment, I have it.”  Andre once said to me.

Everything isn’t about his heart condition and bodily mobility though.  He can’t work. He can’t even drive his car.  That’s why Barry had contacted me.

The day after Barry and I communicated through text, I drove to Andre’s home and picked him up so we could drive to a meeting at the Social Security Administration.  It was an easy thing for me to do; to ride in a comfortable car, to visit a friend.  While doing so I wondered about the small nature of my deed just as John Burroughs must have done while writing one of his esteemed essays, in which he says, “The smallest deed is greater that the greatest intention.”

This thoughtful reminder perked up my spirit as the tires of my car met the gravel of Andre’s driveway a couple of minutes later.  My mood was heighted even more as soon as I saw him standing on his front porch with a smile of gratitude gracing his face.

We spent about three hours together; driving, talking, attending to his business.  Upon leaving the social security office I asked, “Where you able to complete what you needed to?”

Andre responded with a happy, “Yes!  And, I know a short cut back to my house. It will only take us about fifteen minutes to get there.”

So, we drove together once again.  This time the driving interval seemed to be completely insignificant.  Perhaps it was because we had actually completed our intention.  And, measuring this time together through life’s rearview mirror, our trip together seemed to be the smallest deed, ever.

It was a small thing to help Andre, and it started with a short text message.

“Are you in town?”  Barry asked.

“Yes.” I responded.

“Oh, good!”  He said.  “I’m out of town and I was wondering if you could help Andre.”

Barry and I did help Andre in a seemingly insignificant way.  Then and now, it is clear that Andre helped me infinitely more!  My time with him confirmed that what is inconsequential to one may be insurmountable to another and that the smallest deed is always much greater than anyone’s greatest intention.