The first time
Jonas Salk
saw a thing
die,
he likely didn't
see its whole
importance.
The first time
Alan Turing
put a pencil
to a page and
solved a
math problem,
he likely didn't
think it was...
The first time
Hitler got the
attention of a
crowd,
nobody likely
thought that was
outstanding.
The first time
Anne Sullivan
pretended to
stand before a
classroom and
give instructions,
she maybe didn't
take it very
seriously.
It's likely that
the moments that we
easily forsake as
unimportant are
in fact the
turning points,
turning points,
turning points.
They are the vertices of
great planes in our
angular existence.
They are the pivot points
before our great
breakaways.
They are the "Hallo!"s
before unyielding avalanches of
change in our personal landscapes.
They are as minute as
Joan Rivers' first joke,
the one she told in preschool
during nap time that got her
timed out.
They are as "irrelevant" as the
first time Bach heard an
eighth note.
They are as fleeting as the
first time Einstein
looked up at the
sunshine for a
little bit longer than he
should have.
Our greatness is hidden in the
soft and simple elements of
God's creation, unveiled to us in
our silly trip and falls,
trip and falls,
trip and falls.
In de la Renta's first glance at a
spool of thread.
In Horace Smith and
Daniel Wesson's first hearing of
gunshots during
hunting season.
In Dr. Seuss and
Charles M. Schulz's
uncanny interest in
sketching strange figures.
In Jim Henson's first love for
doll babies, puppets and fluffy lay-about
stuff toys for boys.
In Ms. Giovanni and Ms. Angelou's
"original" observations of
life's small joys.
It is all important,
important, important to
life's tapestry of purpose.
Every thread, every color,
every hair that falls out onto the fabric,
every burn, every tear, every mistaken
footprint, every stain and every
leaf that blows in from outside in the
winter... it is all, all, all
important to where we will go when we
do go into our complete personal glories.
Such is life's story,
a big thing composed of tiny things literally as
small as letters, and periods, and commas, and
quotations marks; unexpected things as unwelcome sometimes as
pencil smudges and erasures;
as common and yet as wonderful as paper.
All of it is key.
All of it is you.
All of it is me.
-T. D. James-Moss
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