Small

I'm sitting here watching the twinkles of car lights on I-695.
The lights on I-695 E are inching by while the lights on I- 695 W quickly disappear in the other direction.
Each pair of headlights and brake lights is a car, a car with one, two, maybe five people in it.
People that don't even know I've spotted their car from up here.
People with lives, lives of their own.
People with lives filled with heartache, tears, loss, failure.
People with those same lives filled also with love, laughs, new life, and success.

So many lives, just passing left or right on the high way, heading who knows where.
Unaware of this weird girl up on the hill pondering.

Do you ever do that? Instead of seeing cars around you on the highway do you ever wonder about the drivers? About the kids in the back with their faces fogging up the windows? Each car holds a story.

There are so many stories that my story sometimes feels insignificant.
Like right now, my story doesn't feel so much like a story, but a footnote.

Then I stop myself.

I stop myself because my story is significant.
If it was insignificant, then I wouldn't be here. Someone thought my presence was worth having, worth creating. Someone thought that I should be here, be in this crazy world of ours.

He's pretty incredible this someone.
He chose to create me.
He chose to create those people in the I-695 cars.
He's created each and every one of us, making each and every one us of pretty significant.

Don't take yourself for granted.