I’ll be the first
to admit that I am a mechanical and technological idiot. Truly.
No exaggeration. I barely know
the difference between a screwdriver and a wrench and a hammer. I have zero aptitude and zero interest and
zero patience with those things.
On the other
hand, my older brother, Jim, is one of those individuals who can make something
out of anything. He knows what to do,
how to do it, and somehow has this gift to see a result before he even
begins. Give him something we’d consider
junk and he turns it into art. Something
of beauty, of purpose. Gifted, by any
measure. He has designed houses,
buildings, and created works of art. He
is an artist and architect by trade but wanted to teach. His students loved him. His ability to laugh at himself. His sense of humor. His wit.
His “Jim-ness”.
When we were
little, he had an Erector Set. Remember
those? Different metal pieces of
different sizes and shapes with tiny nuts and bolts and wires. If you had the deluxe set, you even had a
tiny motor that could make the pieces move this way and that way. In the right hands, in Jim’s hands, it was
magical. Me? It was better that I watched from afar. My very presence had the possibility of
destroying it.
Erector Sets and
Tinker Toys gave way to Legos. Those
little plastic pieces of different shapes and sizes that you’d snap together to
make something. They used to come in one
big box of different colors. Now, you
can get a Lego Kit with directions on what to make and how to make it.
Well, directions
are another topic for discussion for some other Tuesday or Friday post.
Jim didn’t need
directions. He’d scoff at
directions. He’d toss them aside as an
annoyance. Like I said, he could make
something out of anything. Me? Well . . .
The Thing About
Legos, Erector Sets and Tinker Toys is that each piece is significant because
without it, you can’t put together what you set out to make. You need each piece. Each piece is important to the whole.
One piece by
itself is nothing more than junk. You
can’t do much with it. (Except step on it with bare feet and scream bloody
murder as you dance one footed around the living room, right?)
One piece is
insignificant by itself. But one piece
is significant to the whole. Without
that one piece, the whole ceases to exist.
It doesn’t become. Without that one piece, something is always
missing. Without that one piece, the
whole is incomplete.
In an early
post, A Drop In The Ocean, I quoted Mother Teresa as saying that, “Without that
one drop, the ocean would be less.”
The Thing About
Legos . . . The Thing About Us, is that each of us is significant and important
to the whole. Unlike Legos, each of us
is significant of and by ourselves.
But Like Legos,
how much more significant are we to the whole?
Very. We bring a different color,
a different perspective, a different view to the whole. We contribute to make that whole. We are significant. Each of us.
Little or small. Young or
old. Each of us. Believe that.
Something to think about . . .
Live Your Life,
and Make A Difference!
An excellent post. Thoughtful and well worth the read. Makes you think about yourself and your place in the "whole." Jaye
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