The tiniest of things.

Sometimes when I feel too busy, or feel like I’ve too much on my plate, I take a step back, pray, and perhaps think about the ever-famous image of the pale blue dot. You can google it if you don't know what's that.

 “From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it's different. Consider again that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.”

- Carl Sagan, the cool astronomer guy who requested to get that photo of earth taken, who also happens to write beautifully. 

There’s a pretty dark hilarity in that excerpt and I sad-laugh a bit every time I read it. Because the truth is that we are all trying to cram the world into our hearts.

We think it’s too big, that’s why it can’t seem to fit. But the truth is that it’s too small and leaving too much of it empty.

And then I think of how the God of the entire universe cares for every person in that speck.

That he would send His son to die for me, so that I’m forever righteous, so that I can call him Daddy.

That infinite incomprehension of why the Creator of the entire universe would want to sit down and spend time to love me, a speck in a speck in a speck.

And that,

That’s what fills my heart.