Who would I be if my writing, my unique ideas about God, my design career, and even my nice-ness were stripped away. . . by something as unavoidable as, let's say, a car accident.

I would become a bitter paraplegic. My friends would become my maids, eventually resentful of their charity. My talents would fall latent forever.

Who would that make me? What identity and value would I have?

Well, in that case I would be about as useful as I was on the day I was born. And it appears He loved me enough to knit me together for that very day anyway.

So maybe when we feel we are of little use to this world, it is good to remember that someone still loves us enough to simply have us around.

Raw Spoon


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