Hi, friend. I’m writing this in the morning with a hot, fresh cup of just-ground-and-made coffee.
You are reading this whenever you get to it. Collapsed in your worn-out recliner after a day at the job. Sitting up at 2:47 AM because you’re sick and can’t sleep. Bored out of your skull, waiting in Atlanta’s Hartsfield for a connecting flight to anywhere but there. Even your overpriced java’s the approximate temp of aardvark spit.
Whenever and wherever this finds you, please take time to read the entire thing. All of it. Let it settle for a minute or two.
Then go back and read it again, slower this time. Spend time with each statement.
Read each one out loud. Yeah, to yourself. You might think reading this out loud to someone else is fun as you start. But you may well be in tears before you’re done the second time. Go easy on yourself, but read this out loud. The more it affects you, the more you need this.
I know. I did, the first time I read it in December of 2006.
Ready? Stop looking around; nobody’s paying any attention to you. Read on . . .
I’m special. In all the world there’s nobody like me. Since the beginning of time,
there has never been another person like me. Nobody has my smile. Nobody has
my eyes, my nose, my hair, my hands, my voice.
No one can be found who has my handwriting.
Nobody anywhere has my tastes for food or music or art.
No one sees things just as I do. In all of time there’s been no one
who laughs like me, no one who cries like me.
And what makes me laugh and cry will never provoke
identical laughter and tears from anybody else, ever.
No one reacts to any situation just as I would react.
I’m the only one in all Creation who has my set of abilities.
Oh, there will always be somebody who is better
at one of the things I’m good at, but no one in the universe can
reach the quality of my combination of talents, ideas, abilities
and excel in the same ways I do. None can match the symphony sound
when all those things are played together. I’m a symphony. Through all of eternity no one will ever look, talk, walk, think, or do like me.
I’m rare. And in all rarity there is great value.
Because of my great rare value, I need not attempt to imitate others.
I will accept–yes, I will celebrate my difference.
And I’m beginning to realize it’s no accident that I’m special.
I’m beginning to realize that God made me special for a very special purpose.
He must have a job for me that no one else can do as well as I.
Out of billions of applicants, only one is qualified,
only one has the right combination of what it takes.
That one is me–because. . .
There are a lot of ways to deflect the power and sweep of this little bit of prose. The more you try, the more it got to you. Hunh-uh. Too late–I caught you.
Please. Don’t downplay how important self-talk is. Whatever’s really in your heart is what comes out your mouth. You can say, “Oh, I don’t really feel that way.” But if you say it more than once or twice, it’s what’s really down in there. And it can and will affect everything about your day.
Pulling this back up every few months or so and reciting it won’t change other people. Won’t alter unsavory circumstances.
But it will go a long way toward helping you see yourself more as God does.
It’ll also help you remember how I tend to think about you, too.
Yes. You may share this with others. I’m hoping you do.
I’ve no idea who originally wrote it. But remember what an impact it’s having on you right now.
You may even want to go back and, ah, reread it again. And every time you say the words, “I’m special”? MEAN IT.
I love you and I believe in you,
© D. Dean Boone September 2013