By Betsy Gonwa, 
In the hardware store, I stand among aisles of cabinets with tiny drawers. They are filled with various sizes of nuts and bolts and washers and other items that I cannot name. Two days before, I hitched the bicycle trailer up – in a hurry – and somewhere enroute from my house to the grocery store, the locknut fell off. Thankfully the bolt was retained. I discovered it when I paid heed to a clinking, jangling sound, and realized that the trailer was attached only with the safety strap.
Now, I hand the bolt to a salesman and he holds it up to a chart with various diameters, identifies it as metric and then the specific size. He then leads me down an aisle where he opens the drawer with locknuts of the size I need. Then I show him the O-rings I need to repair a spray nozzle, and we are off to the plumbing department where he searches through another set of drawers.
In line at the checkout counter, clutching my bag of nuts and O-rings, I am struck by the power of such tiny items, almost insignificant in size and yet so necessary. I imagine small moments that keep us connected, like a greeting or a brief communication. I imagine moments that provide for rest and rejuvenation, like a construction worker taking a break from working in the hot sun for a refreshing drink, or a truck driver stopping to rest after driving so many miles.
In my imaginings, these moments are the nuts and bolts and O-rings of life. Like the nut on the bicycle trailer hitch, such moments may hold our lives together and propel us forward. Or, like the O-rings in a spray nozzle, they may keep our energy flowing in the direction we want it to go.
At home, I fit the bolt into place and tighten the nut around it. Voila! It fits. I can do errands on bicycle again. The next day, my husband opens the bag with the carefully selected O-rings, and fits them around the workings inside the nozzle. There are two sizes of O-rings to fit in two separate places. Neither are exactly right. He decides to contact the manufacturer.
As the manufacturer is available to help with repairs, the wisdom of the Spirit is always available when something goes amiss in our lives. We need only reach out. I discovered the bolt tangled in the safety strap when I heard a sound that caught my attention. It is this kind of attentive listening that helps me to notice the loose nuts and worn-out O-rings in my life. I listen to my body’s language of feelings and physical sensations. I may investigate what I hear with a spiritual practice, or I may take it to spiritual direction.
What about you? Is there a loose nut or a worn-out O-ring in your life that is calling for your attention?
