We are players on a cosmic-sized stage, says N.D. Wilson. We are small yet valued characters in the grandest epic ever produced:
The infinite Creator has an infinite attention span, an infinite love of detail. In His story, every prop must have a complete history. Every extra must have a complete genealogy. And the set must be convincing. Spare no expense. There should be three-dimensional graphics, convincing sound-effects, and something to break up the background blackness of the night sky, something tasteful like a few billion solar systems flaming and spurting, spitting colored worlds and sparkling stars, set far enough away to achieve an understated twinkle […]
Yes, I’m continuing to reread through Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl. It’s good to be reminded of Gods’ infinite interest in the world that he has created. From the history of the rock that gets stuck in my shoe to the number of hairs on the tail of the squirrel that’s twitching its tail outside, He knows and cares for his creation–and like a good author, He is weaving all the little plots of these apparently minor characters towards the end He has in mind. Even in their smallness. Wilson declares that
There is a crushing joy that crackles in every corner of this world. I am tiny and yet I am here. I have been given senses, existence, and placed on a stage so crowded with the vast, so teeming with the tiny, that I can do nothing but laugh, and sometimes laugh and cry.
His point, as I understand it, is that though we are so small when we look at the expanse of creation around us, we have been given value: senses to take in what is around us, minds and emotions to enjoy what our senses relay to us. We are a part of a story where size does not matter and in whose new scenes (joyful, tragic or tinged with ennui) we can participate actively.
The scene I walked into this morning was a nice counterpoint to yesterday’s.
It began grey, but with sunlight slowly gilding my view out the kitchen window. I yielded to the luxury of playing a bit with my hair and had a new hairstyle to arrive at work with—a small thing, certainly, but having time for some sort of creativity before the work day does brighten my view of what is ahead.
Another small but brightening feature was being able to wear a new pair of shoes—cute and comfortable (I do stand a bit as a teacher).
A sunlit drive to work helped my outlook, and then, upon arriving in my classroom, something beautiful waited for me: attentive and engaged students. I’m not sure how that happened, except that it was an answer to prayer—and a truly welcome one at that! Following class, I texted my happy news to some friends who had heard my tale of woe the day before and glad to receive texts back as they rejoiced with me.
All this was wrapped up in the space of a morning–a small space–which was later followed by a side-ways rain flinging storm through which I walked to my car after leaving work. However, in savoring these small things I am grateful for the story in which I am taking part and in which each detail comes together under the watchful eye of my Author.