Starfish

This story, adapted from "The Star Thrower" by Loren C. Eiseley, describes the purpose of my life:


A young girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean. People watched her with amusement. She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl, why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can’t save all these starfish. You can’t begin to make a difference!” The girl seemed crushed, suddenly deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean. Then she looked up at the man and replied, “Well, I made a difference to that one!”

Loved by God

There are so many wonderful things about being loved by God. One of them is discovering the truth that He knows us better than anyone ever has or ever will and He still loves us. He sees the dark places we hide from others. He sees the warts, the scars, all our broken parts and accepts us as we are. That tells us something about Him, but also something about us. If God can see our goodness and potential, perhaps one of our first priorities should be to learn to see ourselves the way He sees us. And the only way to do that is to come unto Him.

Unlimited Possibilities

 

Who You Are

My 11-year-old son wrote this poem yesterday and I thought it was pretty amazing so I'm posting it here:

Say it out loud;
Say it loud and proud.
Who you are,
What you do,
How you stand.
Show no shame;
No one's the same.
Don't regret.
Don't reject.
Don't retreat,
Accept defeat.
Keep on going,
Do not stop.
Through hard times,
Do not forget,
Do not regret
Who you are.

Everything

If I have everything but hope, I have nothing.

If I have nothing but hope, I have everything.

The Power of Regret

I admit it. I've done some really stupid things in my life. I've hurt the ones I love, I've let people down, and at times I've just been a general disappointment and even occasionally crossed the line into abject failure. Overall I don't think of myself of a bad person, but a good person who makes mistakes from time to time. I'd like to think I'm getting better with age and that my dumbest choices are behind me, but occasionally I still surprise myself. All of this adds up to one of the emotions I hate most: regret.

If I had a super power it would probably be the ability to feel regret. It seems to follow me wherever I go, and even if the ratio of good to bad in my life is a thousand to one, I will regret that one thing until the end of time. When I was a kid my parents read me the story of the Princess and the Pea, about a girl whose lineage as a "true princess" was proven because she was so sensitive that she could feel a pea underneath a very large stack of mattresses and woke up with bruises all over her body. I certainly hope that princess never had to go camping, but in some ways I am a lot like her. I seem to be able to feel the pangs of regret even through multiple layers of time and restitution and forgiveness.

So what is the point of regret? Sometimes it seems to serve no purpose other than to torment. And while I acknowledge that much of the problem lies with me and my almost masochistic tendency to hold on to things that I shouldn't, there is a powerful purpose for regret in our lives. Sometimes, but not always, we get second chances. When these chances come, regret can help us do better than we did before. Even if we don't exactly get second chances--such as when a relationship simply can't be saved--we can bring the lessons of regret with us into our new relationships. We can be quicker to apologize and forgive and forget, we can focus on what we have in common instead of dwelling on differences, we can surrender the need to be right all the time and we can give others the benefit of the doubt. We can seek to truly understand them, we can focus more on their strengths and less on their faults, and we can love them unconditionally.

That is the power of regret.

Embers remain

If sunshine fades to night
and stars fall from the sky
If peace is taken from the earth
and gold and silver lose their worth
If ashes fall like pouring rain
still the embers will remain

If there are no songs left to sing
and sweetest dreams come to nothing
If fire consumes all we hold dear
and darkness leaves us frozen with fear
If ashes fall like pouring rain
still the embers will remain

If journeys take us so far from home
that we've nowhere left to go
If emptiness fills every breath
as we walk in the shadow of death
If ashes fall like pouring rain
still the embers will remain

Come fire, come rain, come sadness and pain:
still the embers will remain
Though the world itself be burned away
yet our love will never fade
Though ashes fall like pouring rain
glowing embers will remain

A Tale of Two Trees

There were once two trees standing in the middle of an open field next to a brook. They grew up together, and from a distance it was difficult to tell where one tree ended and the other began, because they were so intertwined. They held on to each other in the winter when the cold snows came, in the spring when they were both arrayed in brilliant white, in the summer when their leaves danced in the wind, and in the fall when their colors changed from green to gold. They drank from the brook together and felt the rain on their bark and leaves, then basked in the warm sunshine at the end of each storm. The world was beautiful, and it seemed that it would always be so.

Then one day a man came and dug up one of the trees and took her away. The other tree was heartbroken, standing alone at the edge of the brook, wondering why such a thing had happened and how he would ever find happiness again. He felt the brook as it went by, reminding him of the times he and his friend had tasted its life-giving waters together. When the snows of winter came he stood alone and remembered what it was like to have her next to him. In the spring he remembered how beautiful she had looked in white, in the summer he remembered how they used to dance together, and in the fall he ached for her as his leaves fell softly to the ground.

Seasons came and went, and the tree remained alone. One day at the end of autumn when the first snows were beginning to fall, the tree was preparing for another long, cold winter when he felt a voice deep inside him whisper, "The snow is for you. It feeds the waters of the brook and nourishes your roots. It will make you strong for the coming season." Suddenly the tree realized he was not alone and that someone was watching over him--someone who cared for him deeply. He spent that winter filled with an inner warmth as the cold snow fell all around him.

When the spring came he was grateful for his new leaves and the cool flowing waters of the brook, but he felt an emptiness inside when he thought of his friend and the memories they had once shared. "These memories are for you," the voice inside him spoke again. "Some trees grow in forests, surrounded by others. Some trees grow in small groups, and still others grow alone. I know exactly what each tree needs, for I created them all. I know you have long felt sorrow for the loss of your friend, but grief only comes to those who have known great love. Be grateful that you once loved enough to grieve, and treasure every memory that remains."

Throughout that spring and summer, the tree counted his blessings. He rejoiced in the renewal of spring as birds built nests in his branches and cared for their young, and he let his branches sway gently in the wind while he basked in the summer sun. But in the autumn as his leaves began to change, he remembered how his friend had held him in winters past and again felt a deep sense of loss. Once more the voice came to him and whispered, sending shivers through every branch and twig: "Listen." The tree quieted his troubled heart and felt the rich soil beneath his roots and the constantly stirring air around him. For many days and nights he absorbed his surroundings, alternately feeling the sunshine and starlight on his branches. The day the first snows began to fall, as he was drinking from the brook for what was perhaps the last time that season, he felt a calm assurance come over him. He couldn't say exactly how it came or where it had come from, but he knew, as surely as he knew that spring followed winter, that he and his friend would always be connected by their love for each other and by the love of their Creator. Then the voice spoke to him once more, saying, "Be at peace." In that moment he was, and he knew that he would continue to find comfort whenever it was needed.