Iʼm wearing glasses. Thatʼs how I see.
When I was in second grade, I started noticing that the letters on the white
board began blurring. Thatʼs when an eye doctor told me that I needed to wear
glasses. So I got a pair. And ever since, Iʼve been able to see only with them
on. When I walk into a room, the once unnoticeable things are now noticeable.
Through my glasses, I see the big picture. I notice small things that seemed
insignificant. I notice that the role of these small things may not be so trivial.
Smaller things stay with us more than we expect. Those things I shouldʼve forgotten
the day it happened, I canʼt. A kid from my 1st grade class dropping a goldfish
snack into my fish tank, I remember. The first time I pinched a girl for stealing
my swing, I remember. My kindergarten teacher complimenting my neatly
colored frog, I remember. Those lasted for about a minute. And yet, they are
inscribed into my mind. The things we used to fuss about in elementary school no
longer signify. The clothes we wear, whom we hang out with, the grades we get;
those are the things consuming our minds.
But we are fortunate. We have enough clothes. We have people to sit with. And
if we work hard, we get the grades we want. But we donʼt always get what we
want. Even those of us who are fortunate, we will always desire for more. We cram
our minds with thoughts of just what we want. Is that all we should care about?
Just what we want?
There are things we overlook. The unnoticed and perhaps even disappearing things
we ignore because itʼs not about us. Things maybe we donʼt lack, but others do. Yes,
people in Haiti are desperate of hope. And we donate. Yes, children just like us
in Thailand suffer in poverty. And we sponsor. These are noble deeds. These
show our capacity for compassion. But can that same compassion be shown to
those of us in this room? Those of us who need our attention?
For just one day, take yourself out of the center focus, and see if you still have a good
reason to live.
Think ab