“It's not the 'biggest' things that count and make the biggest show.
It's the little things that people do that make the old world go.”
He was a very tall, very important policeman, with a bright blue suit and a row of shining brass buttons.
And she was an old, old woman with withered cheeks and eyes that still held little pieces of dreams that had never quite gone away, and an apron into which she kept putting things as she gathered them from the street, down the crowded slum district.
The policeman had a duty to perform. He had to see what it was that the old, old woman was collecting, so he asked if he might look into her apron.
“Oh, no, please!” She begged. “It isn't anything of any worth. Nobody would want it. I know it isn't anything important at all, sir.”
“But let me see it,” the man insisted.
Finally she opened the faded apron and officer's eyes saw a pile of broken chips of glass.
“But what are you doing with them?” he asked. “I thought you had something valuable.”
“I was only picking up the glass to save the feet of the children who play here,” she explained. “You see, there isn't any grass around and there aren't any parks. This is their only playground, and I don't want them to cut their feet.”
It was a little thing to do, but it was a wonderfully beautiful thing. After all, though we may not all serve in the court of the king, with ermine and velvets and wondrous jewels, we may all pick up glass. We may do the simple thing and the humble thing to help others.
Taken from: A Treasury of Devotional Aids for Home and School