The little foxes

English: Common foxes in the snow. Français : Renards roux dans la neige. W.Kuhnert. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mom used to repeat that long-ago penned slice of wisdom originating from The Song of Solomon; “It’s the little foxes that spoil the vines”. In my younger days, when I had never yet set my gaze on a real live fox much less these vineyards he desired to spoil, it didn’t make much sense to me. A lot of things didn’t then.

But, oh have I found that saying to be accurate and worth adding to my arsenal of proven truths.

We expect trials and tribulations to manifest in some big, easily recognizable way. We presume that when we enter throes of temptation, we will always show up, eyes wide open, prepared and completely alert.

However, it starts with the little things…

That one phrase spoken in a sugar sweet voice, laced with black, dark, hate.

That tiny wound that rages red, becoming infected with revenge.

That look of contempt, the kind where a disgusted shaking head follows.

Sometimes it starts as a barely noticeable disengaging from life, a slow giving in to despair.

A pinch of jealousy, fertilized with just the right mix of self-loathing and insecurity can turn into an ugly beast, hard to control.

One small plank thrown up to shelter a tender heart can turn into a fortress.

Yes, I am confident that a lot of the “little things” become very big things if we don’t catch them and deal with them immediately.

The little foxes do spoil the vines, but only, if we let them.