I am a paper scrap. A useless, awkward and rather insignificant paper scrap. I have no name, no purpose and no bright future laid out in front of me. I live anonymously under the Work Station where the real action takes place and where “big things” come to life. I have aspired to be part of the big picture my whole life. I could already see my picture framed.
I did not make the cut. I’ll never know why.
Maybe it was my shape, my color, too many others just like me. But I was not valued, selected, recognized or acknowledged as significant. I saw several pieces just like me selected right before my eyes, torn from the same paper as me but my turn never came. I used to obsess over the why, the how come and the what if… Now I am waiting for my next chance.
Because there will be a next chance. You see, I live in a world where the awkward, the odd, the misshapen and the discolored are not blindly discarded. Rather, I and plenty of others around me are preciously and carefully picked up from a dusty floor and put in a very special box filled with other lucky random, disheveled, one-legged pieces not at all “just like me”. I live in a world where my “handicap” makes me unique, special, precious and full of promises. On my own I may not look like much but my creator believes that I have tremendous potential, just because of how different I am.
Someday soon I will be hand-picked over my countless neighbors as The One precisely needed to make the next big picture. I will be critical to the success of a much bigger outcome. Many will point their finger at me and comment about my silly, grotesque shape and praise me for how necessary I am contextually, how the picture I live in would never be as successful without me. And so I patiently wait in a small dark box with a smile on my face, dreaming about my future.