Several years ago, Penny and I went to Hawaii. It was a great trip, except for the day we went snorkeling. My wife loves the water. She grew up with a swimming pool in the backyard. I grew up a little differently — the bathroom was in our backyard. The only water I ever saw was Saturday-night bath time. Consequently, I didn’t learn to swim well until I met Penny. She’s like a graceful fish in water; I’m more like a beached whale. But I love her, and she loves the water, so we planned a day of snorkeling.

Some friends of ours had lent us their snorkeling equipment. As we were getting ready, I noticed one little thing was missing from my equipment. I couldn’t find the little rubber circle that Penny was fitting over her snorkeling tube. It wasn’t there. It was lost; it had gone wherever my lost socks go. I thought, What’s the big deal? It’s small; it can’t do much. I’m ready. Let’s go.

We went deeper and deeper, admiring the beautiful fish. I went a little deeper and inhaled half of the Pacific Ocean. I realized then that the small, round circle keeps your snorkeling tube from tipping into the water. I thought I was going to die. My life flashed before me. Penny came to my rescue and I survived, but I’ll never forget the value of small things.

As I think about it, the way we handle the small things pretty much determines how successful we are. Just think about it. How many of you have ever been bitten by a lion or tiger, or stepped on by an elephant? Very few, I imagine. On the other hand, how many have been stung by a bee, bitten by a mosquito or harassed by a fly? If you’ve ever spent the night with a mosquito or fly, you know how powerful small things can be.

It is interesting how little things become big things. On Sept. 11, 1995, a squirrel climbed onto the Metro-North Railroad power lines near New York City. He set off an electrical surge, which weakened an overhead bracket, which let a wire dangle toward the tracks, which tangled in a train that tore down all the lines. As a result, 47,000 commuters were stuck in Manhattan for hours that evening. I’ll bet it wasn’t even a big squirrel.

An enormous pine tree growing in the mountains of Colorado was only half-grown when the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. A close study revealed that it had been struck by lightning 14 times and survived centuries of Colorado’s hard winters. Age didn’t destroy it. Avalanches didn’t move it. Fires didn’t kill it. Many came to believe the old tree was indestructible. But, in the end, a beetle destroyed it. A little pine beetle, so small you could crush it between your thumb and finger, destroyed that large tree.

One reason small things are important is that they lead to big things. Addition comes before multiplication, crawling before walking, and high school before college. No one starts at the top except a gravedigger. If you want to do great things in your life, start doing small things in a great way.

If you want to have a great marriage, do the small things. You may say, “I would die for my wife.” She doesn’t want you to die for her; she just wants you to take out the trash. Whisper three small words in her ear like, “I love you,” or, better yet, “Let’s eat out.” Try giving her a small thing, like the remote control. Small things are powerful. Dinosaurs are extinct, yet rabbits abound.

Big things really do come in small packages. I’m a grandpa, and I know small things mean a lot, for I would give the world to help one of my grandchildren. Yes, small things are powerful. Maybe that is why God used a baby to change the world.