Recently I was in Middleton Library at LSU doing some research and took a bathroom break. While on break, I discovered on the wall what many would refer to as graffiti, some would describe as vandalism and still others would see as art. I saw it as a prophetic reminder. There on the wall, someone had written in small letters the phrase, “DONT FORGET HOW Beautiful THE WORLD IS.” Someone elso had apparently come along and added the word “ever” which caused the phrase to now read “DONT ever FORGET HOW Beautiful THE WORLD IS.”
In this age of cynicism and sarcasm, this simple reminder to pay attention to the beauty in the world, the goodness in creation and the acts of kindness and generosity that so often go unnoticed caused me to wonder how such profound truth could be captured in such small letters.
C. S. Lewis wrote, “Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.”
Maybe the real miracle was that I was paying attention and even noticed.
Pay attention to the small letters. They often reveal the deepest truth and regularly tell the real story.
I met him on Thursday. His name is George and he is in the first grade at University Terrace Elementary School. He and I will be spending time together each week over the next year. So that we could get to know one another better, we were given a series of questions to ask and answer. I learned that George likes to read and hates it when other kids misbehave. George has an older sister, a younger sister and two younger brothers. George loves to play on the playground and he likes candy a lot. He has a contagious smile and a playful spirit. When we got to the series of questions that asked, What state do you live in? What city do you live in? What street do you live on?, we made it through the first two just fine. But when we got to the third question, George began to struggle a bit. He did not know the street he lived on and answered, “Dead End Street.” I asked him if he really lived on “Dead End Street” or if he lived near a sign that said, “Dead End Street.” He could not or did not answer. And so we moved on to read a book together and then he gave me a tour of the playground. I took him back to his class and promised him I would see him next week. As I left, I said a prayer hoping that in some small way our time together will help insure that he does not end up living his whole life on “Dead End Street.”
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