Just outside the automatic sliding glass doors at Harvestime, the neighborhood grocery store I frequent, they have a giant pumpkin on display. The oversized orange gourde is not perfectly round. It’s sort of tilted on its side. Its incredible pumpkin-ness seems to drip off the cloth covered box where it has taken up residence like a Salvation Army donation bucket outside Macy’s at Christmas. Wherever this seasonal icon came from, I think every Harvestime shopper would have to agree. It is one BIG PUMPKIN!

I think it’s natural to be a little suspicious about the supersize me philosophy, and I seem to run counter to big is better thinking whenever I can. I don’t drive a big car, shop at Costco, or frequent all-you-can-eat buffets. I try to support small businesses. I think I am a good citizen of the world when I advocate less is more, small is beautiful approaches to things. But sometimes, when I’m confronted by something big – like this darn pumpkin – I can’t help but be wowed.

What is it about big things, really big things, that are so compelling?

The Guinness Book of World Records has a whole section with entries like the longest tongue, the heaviest snake and the largest bubble gum bubble blown. There’s an inescapable curiosity, I think, when things are out of range of our normal experience. Big is only a relative term, just like loud or bright. Big is subjective and requires context. When you’re a kid, everything seems big. Or, until you’ve seen the Grand Canyon, any stone quarry can seem like an un-crossable chasm.

Walking past this BIG pumpkin on the way to support a favorite SMALL business both delights me and discourages me. I want to be a perfect champion of small, but I can’t look away. Then I remember how things great and small work together.

Trees can grow from seeds. Skyscrapers are captivatingly big because architects designed them to function within their surroundings and bricklayers, pipefitters, and other journeymen took care of their small part in the project. I always smile when I see pictures of rural youth leading their prize pig or Heifer to a 4H tent at their state fair, an animal usually many times their size. Wilbur or Erasmus or whatever they name their pet project got to be BIG because the kid woke up at 5:00 every morning to feed it.

When I think about these things, I can feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude when I walk past the Harvestime pumpkin. Someone planted it with enough room to grow. Someone made sure insects and squirrels didn’t eat it. Someone made sure it got whatever water, food and nutrients it needed. And someone moved it carefully, so that it could sit on a table, still in one piece.

Big things are often the result of many, many little attentions, and giving anything your heart-felt attention is NO SMALL THING.