The tiny box we overlook

Today, I spent hours trying to do something that should have been simple. I was working on my employers  website, trying to make a list of pulled data from a specific section of a database from another application. The solution, according to every blog, AI, and video I searched, said it was easy. Just click from the list box and choose from the drop-down. But I couldn’t find the box. I looked everywhere. I clicked everywhere in the Web Designer software. Even stepped away a few times to clear my head so I wouldn’t use language I shouldn’t. I knew I was making something so simple feel impossible.

And then, I found it. A tiny icon, no bigger than a centimeter, that had been there the whole time. One click, and everything started falling into place.

It hit me how often in life and in our faith do we do the same thing?

We search and strive. We stress and overthink. We look everywhere except at what’s right in front of us. We ask God for answers but don’t slow down enough to see the small signs He has placed in our path. Sometimes the breakthrough isn’t about knowing more, but about seeing more clearly. About quieting our minds long enough to notice the still, small voice. (1 Kings 19:12).

That tiny box reminded me that God doesn’t always shout in the obvious places. He often whispers in the quiet corners of our lives, in the spaces we overlook when we’re moving too fast to notice. Sometimes, the answer we desperately need isn’t in a loud voice or flashing road sign.  It’s in a gentle nudge, a still small moment, or something so subtle we almost miss it.

God’s guidance is not always loud, but it is always present.

He might speak through an unexpected conversation with a friend, a line in a song we weren’t even really listening to, or a verse of Scripture that suddenly feels like it was written just for us. And often, it’s only after we’ve worn ourselves out searching that we’re still enough to finally hear Him.

What felt like wasted time today wasn’t wasted at all. Every moment of struggle chipped away at my pride, my self-reliance, and my hurry. It softened me and humbled me. Reminding me that sometimes the journey is the lesson. That in my frustration, God is not far away.  He’s teaching me to slow down, to pay attention, to depend on Him more than my own understanding.

Clarity often comes not to those who are the smartest, fastest, or most capable.  But to those who are willing to keep seeking, even when they’re tired or frustrated. God honors the heart that doesn’t give up. The heart that says, Lord, I trust that You are here, even when I don’t see it yet.

And when that clarity finally comes after what seems like forever and we see the “tiny box” we overlooked, it moves us and possibly humbles us. Because we know we didn’t get there on our own. It was grace that opened our eyes.

So now, every time I see that tiny little icon on the page, I’ll remember this, sometimes the biggest breakthroughs come in the smallest, quietest places. And God is always there patiently waiting for me to see.