If the word snowflake was at the top of a card in the game of Taboo, I’d guess the buzzable words below it would be precipitation, winter, tiny, white, icy. If I were creating the game, though, I’d also include unique.
When snowflakes gather, like they did on Tuesday, I see the mass of them and make plans for how I’ll manage them, move them, and get through them. When one snowflake in the storm is singled out on my glove, though, I catch my breath. Beautiful, surprising, unique. And when it melts away, I know I’m the only human who saw it.
In October, I got another job. As an employment consultant for people with disabilities, I gained a caseload of eighteen. There’s training for how to move through it, manage it well, and document it accurately. When an individual is singled out in a face-to-face meeting with me, though, I catch my breath. Beautiful, surprising, unique. And when they go away, I hope I’m not the only person who sees them.
I think of the shepherd of the sheep. He had one hundred he protected, cared for, and guided, but one wandered off and disappeared. He left the ninety-nine to search for it, though, and at the sight of it again, I bet that shepherd caught his breath. Beautiful, surprising, unique. And with joy, he carried the seen one home.
And now there’s you. Only one in the sea of humanity. You think about how to manage your days, hours, and minutes. You wonder what you’re doing and if there’s a point to it all. Singled out, though, you make the Shepherd catch His breath. You’re beautiful, surprising, unique. And whether or not you believe it, you’re seen.
You’re always seen.
