The look in her eyes showed me that my life had made some sort of a difference to her. I hadn’t known her longer than three hours, but already my heart had touched hers.
It was sort of overwhelming.
She was just a younger version of me, about six months behind in maturity. Which isn’t saying much, but we’re talking about our maturity on this journey of ours as we walked along the same path.
I’d been where she’d been. I had the same scars, the same hurt, the same fears.
We were alike, she and I.
Except I was a few steps ahead of her. I was a little closer to reaching the finish line than she was. So I could grab her hand and pull her to her feet, give her a pat on the back, and give her a push to keep going.
Even though I was still crying my eyes out myself.
I’ve often sat there in the dark, wondering, Does my life even make a difference? What’s the point, anyway?
I saw it in her eyes. The way she looked at me as we sat there together on the windowsill at midnight, in the place that felt like hell. It was reassurance. My life was just as valuable as hers. Which is actually saying a lot.
The race has been hard. And long; terribly long. And I’ve tried to quit a few times. But I had someone to pick me up, give me a hug, and gently nudge me toward the end of the road.
I stumble along in the darkness screaming and shaking my fist, and God doesn’t answer.
Does my life even matter anymore? What’s the point, anyway?
The answer was in her eyes. Yes, my life does matter. I am making a difference. Even if it’s only for a day, in the heart of a girl I’ll never see again.
Because you see, we weren’t all made to be the hero in the story.
Sometimes, we were created to be the voiceless character from the hero’s past, who made a subtle difference that changed the course of history. The Author wrote us into the story not to be the person who saved the world, but who molded the world-saver into the person they were, who set the stage for the salvation.
The voiceless character is just as important as the hero.
The princess isn’t more special than the servant girl. One gets recognition, the other stays in the humble shadows, but both are crucial to the survival of the kingdom.
Life is our storybook. We’d like to write it with ourselves as the fearless, brave hero, who changed the world with our lives. We wait for the Cinderella moment, to go from abused slave to beautiful princess.
And time only leaves us with a mop in our hand, and another floor to scrub.
But without a clean floor, how could the prince and princess dance?
Your life matters. My life matters. Our existence, our choices, our actions, are changing the course of history. It’s just up to us whether it’s for better or worse.
I’m not sure what the Author has me doing in the grand Story of Life. But whatever it is, I’m the character He wants me to be, playing the part He wants me to play, making the difference and paving the path He wants me to for the hero to make the grand entrance.
And the same goes for you, my friend.