you've probably thought about this too

via

I begin writing so many posts that I never actually publish.  For some reason, I often feel as though my words will just seep through the cracks of this hugely extensive social networking world, forever to go unnoticed by anyone.  So why bother fitting my thoughts into a coherent and publish-able work of art?

But I've been finding that it's the little things people say that you actually remember.  People won't let you see who they really are, not if they can help it.  The last thing they want to do is stride out to center stage, into the spotlight where nothing is hidden, and whip their cape back so the world can scrutinize their every last flaw.

It's the small unguarded comments, the raising of the eyebrows, the "humphs" that come from their throats, that whispers this is me.  Without those simple moments, we might all look the same with our safety masks on, not one of us differing from the next.

So this is a "humph".  It's not much.  But in 10 seconds I will click publish and maybe, someone will hear it.

7 billion is a lot of people

Did you know that as of August 7, 2012, the world population was calculated at 7,031,379,406 people?

I would like to point out that your average Starbucks has a fire code limit of maaaybe 50 people. 75 at most.

Ever thought about how many people you pass on the road?  Then multiply that by the rest of your city.  And the rest of your state.  And country.  And continent.  Then add that to the other 6 continents.

When it all comes down to it...

There is an unfathomable number of human souls gracing  the face of this earth.

I can't even grasp it.

Then to make your head spin a little more, God has a purpose for every. single. one. of those people.  Not one of those 7 billion have "no purpose".  (Not to mention the trillions of people before and after us.)

They're all here for a reason.

The lady in pink at McDonald's who had no hair and the man who called her white trash.

The two old men at the doctor, one with a walker and one with retardation.

The girl at work waiting for her baby to come.

The waiter who gave us chips and soda for free.

The teens on the lightrail posing for photos and swearing like sailors.

God specifically created all of those people for a purpose, just like an artist paints a picture.  What made him paint that picture?  It was on his mind.  He was captured by the beauty of the scene, the story it told.  I think God's "painting hour" is his favorite hour of the day.  I think he gets all of his other chores done as fast as possible just so he can sit down and put all of his heart and joy into his paintings...us.

You are a wonderful painting, friend.  You stand out in the art gallery.  You bring tears to the eyes of viewers simply by the complexity of the story you tell... Thank you for being you.