Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Do I matter?
This morning I woke with billions of others and breathed in the air they breathed out. My eyes opened at the same time yours did. I stood. You stood. They stood with the masses. Alone in my room, I hung my head.
Do I matter? I wondered out loud to the walls and millions echoed my question.
As I dressed and ate and went through my morning trillions of people passed by my window. They trawled through their day just as I trawled through mine. We ate. We slept. We loved and lost and cried out. We died and we were born. Another soul. An endless sky of humanity. And all of us, every single one, were thinking the same thoughts that ticker-taped through mind.
Do I matter? I wondered out loud to the walls, and millions echoed my question.
The trouble is not that I only see me in the mirror. The trouble is that I see you, and you and you and you and... Where do I end? Where do you begin? And as I stared into that mirror I further blurred that line of distinction.
Do I matter? I wondered and millions echoed my question.
I am afraid. As you are afraid. As they are. As we are. That I am not here for anything more than the space I occupy. That when the numbers are counted I won't have added to the sum. That nothing within me matters so much that I am the only one who could share it. Mothers wonder if their mothering matters. Career people if the jobs make a difference. Leaders wonder about there leadership. Followers about their following. Artists wonder about their creations, singers about their songs. And as a writer my question scared me senseless. Do my words matter? Will it ever matter?
Do. I. Matter? I wondered and millions echoes my question.
Today in my guttered silence I asked again, and though it was only a lowly whisper, He heard.
This I know for sure. He is the One who has numbered the hairs on my head. We number many things. Who numbers hairs? He is the One who watched over my unformed being as I was knitted together in my mother's womb. Who has such vision?
And this is what my heart heard. "I think of you constantly. Though I hung the stars and turn the planets, I think of you. Though I set the foundations of the outer rings of this universe in place. I think of you. You are mine. You matter. Do you hear me, child? You matter. My thoughts towards you are greater than the sands on every beach. You are created for a purpose and day. An appointed hour and a time. A life and a living. Before all time, I thought of you. And my plans for you are perfect."
And I knew. Deep in that Little Girl place that cried out. I knew.
"Do you matter?" you asked. And millions echoed your question.
What about you? How do you answer that question? Do you matter? How do you know?