The Big Picture Changes the Small Picture

The year was 1995. I was a youth pastor at the time, and a movie was released that not only deeply inspired my calling, it had an impact on the way I viewed my life. Mr. Holland’s Opus was the story of a high school music teacher who once dreamed of being a famous composer. Like many nonfamous artists, Mr. Holland decided to teach classes “on the side” while he waited for the career that never opened up. Because he never achieved his goals, he ended up spending thirty years occupying a job he never desired to have. However, instead of letting himself settle for a career of lethargy, best symbolized by the voice of Charlie Brown’s teacher (Wah-wah-wah), Mr. Holland breathed life into his students’ lives. He lived each day with passion and intention even though he was not where he had chosen to be.

Forced to retire early because of school budget problems, the last scene shows Mr. Holland quietly contemplating whether his life has been a waste. As he packs up his belongings, his wife and son arrive to lead him into the school auditorium where he is greeted by four hundred of his former students—now adults—who surprise him with a thunderous ovation. They have come to pay homage to the teacher who changed their lives.

At the end of the film, Mr. Holland was able to see the big picture of his life. It turns out it was not the goals he accomplished that made his life extraordinary—it was the way he had lived. When he entered the auditorium, Mr. Holland discovered that his life was part of a much bigger story, one that involved many other lives besides his own. By getting a glimpse of the broader impact of his life, Mr. Holland was able to see that his greatness was not determined by how big or small his part may have been, but by the way he played his part.

Though we are inspired by Mr. Holland, there are days when it is easy to become Charlie Brown’s teacher—particularly if our life is not turning out the way we imagined it would be. We can become disillusioned. Disengaged. Wah-wah-wah-ing through our days, hoping something will happen to change the trajectory of our life. But Mr. Holland’s Opus reveals the important truth that our life isn’t merely shaped by the things that happen to us, it’s also shaped by the way we live. We have a bigger impact on those around us than we may be able to see.

What we see in front of us is not always the full picture of what is happening because of us. Our lives are setting off a ripple effect beyond what we can see. We are not just influencing the future of people we know, we are also affecting the future of people we may never know. And if we look at the stories around us, we can see evidence everywhere of this truth.

Tracing the Source

It was September 4, 1987. The parents of Patrick and Benjamin Binder sat silently in the waiting room of a hospital in Germany, agonizing over the fate of their Siamese twins. Because their twins were joined at the skull, the only two options they faced was to lose both of their children, or sacrifice one child for the other to have a chance at life. They could not bring themselves to make that choice. Thankfully, there was a young surgeon who could imagine a different outcome. He came up with an idea to cool down the boys’ bodies so the blood would flow slower and bleeding would be less severe. This would allow the surgeons to have the time to perform the delicate task of untangling, dividing, and repairing shared blood vessels.

What fueled the surgeon’s imagination to come up with this idea was a choice made twenty-five years earlier by a single mother. Left alone with a third-grade education and no money, this young mother worked three jobs to help her two young boys survive. Because of this, her boys had little accountability in their studies, and both were failing in school. One night, on a rare evening at home, she suddenly knew she would have to do something drastic if she was going to alter their course. Amidst a firestorm of complaints, she told her boys that until their homework was done, they were no longer allowed to go outside and play. Any free time they had was now going to be occupied by reading two books a week at the local library and writing a summary of each book for her to see. There was only one problem with her plan: she never learned how to read.

If they had a question about a word they didn’t know, she would tell them to sound it out. If during their homework they came to her for an answer to a problem, she would say, “Use your imagination.” Her friends warned her that her boys would grow up resenting her, which was initially just what they did. However, in time they would say that their lives were changed because of her love. Both boys went on to achieve multiple academic successes and earn Ivy League college degrees. The older boy became an engineer. The younger boy, a pediatric neurosurgeon.

When neurosurgeon Ben Carson faced the couple sitting in the German waiting room, he heard his mother’s words echoing in his brain: “Use your imagination.” So that’s exactly what he did. When the Binders saw their newly separated twins, they tearfully embraced their daring surgeon. What they did not know is that their children were saved in part by their surgeon’s mother’s sacrifice. It was the piece of the story they could not see.

History reveals that in another part of Germany, decades before, there was a single mother who did not have the strength or fortitude to do what Ben Carson’s mother did. Her strong-willed son dropped out of school at the age of sixteen and left home before graduating high school. Because of the lack of authority and education in his life, as well as a volatile relationship with his father, this boy ended up gravitating toward all the wrong influences. He lived for several years in a homeless shelter, where historians say he developed many of the views that would later shape his life. As a result of a thousand small choices made by people around him, as well as choices he made himself, this boy grew up to become something very different than Ben Carson. His name was Adolf Hitler.

Our small stories play a significant part of a bigger story when we consider the impact our lives may have. We discover that each choice and sacrifice we make involves more than we can see. Certainly there are some things that will evolve in ways we can’t control, but if we look through a broader lens at the people in front of us, it can give us the vision and determination we need to press on in our small sacrifices. And as Sonya Carson discovered, someday we may get a glimpse of what those sacrifices become.

Bringing It Home

I am a stepmom. If it sounds like I’m introducing myself at an AA meeting, that isn’t so far from how it feels. These words require work for me to own, and they don’t come easily out of my mouth. After all, in the wonderful world of Disney, the stepmother is generally not the heroine of the film. The words wicked and evil come to mind when looking for adjectives to describe her.

I confess there are times when I avoid saying the word step before mom simply because the minute a woman says those words, she is announcing that she’s not really the mom. She’s just the fill-in when the child is staying in her home. But since Jordan’s mom lives in Australia, approximately 85 percent of the time my stepson is “staying” in our home. Nevertheless, when push comes to shove in the parenting lineup, I am Mom number two.

Perhaps you have a situation in your life where the immediate view tempts you to feel insignificant in your role. Reframing your situation with the big view lens might reveal that your role is more important than you can see. If I dwell on my understudy position in Jordan’s life, I am tempted to fade in the background behind my husband, because he carries the biological seed that solidifies permanence. My role feels insignificant. And the more I say that, the smaller I get.

Then I look at the power I have. As the mom Jordan is mostly exposed to, there are big things happening in our relationship—the things I say and do will help construct the man he is becoming. My words and actions have the power to put wind in his sails and to fan into flame his gifts. The deposits I make every day in his life will be part of who he becomes.

I am the face he sees when he does a speech at school. Hits a home run. Struggles with his homework. Finds vegetables hidden in his pasta. (Actually, I hide my face for that last one.) But I am a pretty big face in this growing boy’s life. And however insignificant my title might make me, in the grand scheme my role could be huge in my stepson’s life. Looking at it from that perspective will impact the way I live it. Perhaps looking at your situation this way will change the way you live yours.

Seeing the big picture brings a focus to our lives and enables us to see the heroic in the mundane. We recognize that every sacrifice we make, no matter how small it feels, may be setting off a chain reaction that can change another person’s life. Recognizing the weight of our actions brings a significance to our lives that can inspire us to live differently. But we must see ourselves as part of something much bigger in order to live this significance out.

Part of a Bigger Story

Child development studies affirm that when we are babies, the world does not exist beyond our view. When something or someone moves out of our...