The tired, old, worn out book on the shelf.
Its cover a little frayed around the edges, the tired old book waited on the shelf for someone to read it. If you had happened upon it, you might be mistaken for believing that the book had little to offer.
There were scuffs on the leather, which once was probably beautiful, but not anymore. The title, embossed in a stunning gold leaf, was now barely readable. The book looked like it had seen many better days, but probably very few worse.
And so it sat on the shelf, and waited for a reader to come.
Had it been picked up, the first thing the reader would have discovered were many, many dog-eared pages. This was obviously a book that had been read a multitude of times, probably by far more than a few people.
The pages, which once had been sandwiched together, were now crinkled and warped, resisting each other with a gentle but definite pushing back. Even the spine of the book was weary from too many openings, and had started to detach from the binding.
In short, this book was not pretty, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be powerful.
For had a reader bothered to turn the pages, they would have found notes scrawled in the margins, passages underlined and highlighted, and cryptic questions written in different hands.
Although some of the pages contained more handwriting than typeface, the message of the book was still there, waiting to bless another soul with its timeless wisdom, and hidden secrets.
This was a book that could enlarge your mind, empower your spirit and heal your soul, but because it looked a little less than perfect, it remained unread, ignored and alone.
“Had I but known” the reader said, “I would have read it cover to cover”. “Had you but tried” the book replied, “I would have shared with you my soul”.
I can tell you that in my life, I have been that guilty reader, who has passed by another person’s story, another fount of wisdom, another human book of wisdom, because they did not meet my idea of attractive, successful or wise.
So many things that I could have learned from another, if only I could have laid down my insecurities, and been willing to listen to someone who did not seem to be like the me who I wanted to be.
But I foolishly judged the books by their covers, to the eternal detriment of my soul.
For as human stories, the chapter headings of our lives are often writ large upon the body that we present to the world, and sometimes those pages are not full of joy and sunshine.
The way we show up in the world is the summary of all the pages of our history, all the chapters of times, and all the words, both good and bad, that have gone into making up our story.
And a person who bears the scars has often taken from those wounds, the wisdom.
Let us not pass by those human stories who differ from us in faith, finances, thought, color or creed. For as the tired, old, worn out book on the shelf had so many mysteries and wonders to share with its reader, so each of us have in our hearts a wonderful human story to share with each other and the world.
Though our covers may be old, or large, or scarred, or colored, our stories within can shine brightly into the universe, regaling all who listen with the beauty, majesty and divinity of the human soul.
May we all take time to read and share stories, both in book and human form.
The world will be a kinder and wiser place when we do.
— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings