Everything Is Just The Way It Should Be

Dressed in well-worn denim overalls and a white T-shirt, the carpenter walked into the shed and inspected the work of his hands.

Scattered around in the old dusty shed were various pieces of furniture derived from different kinds of wood. Unlike the majority who were made out of prestigious pine or mahogany, I was cut from cedar.

For weeks we had shared the same space and patiently endured our transformation. During these months, the carpenter had sawn, carved and shaped us. Polished to perfection was a beautiful coffee table – he was quite nice, actually – an elegant, sophisticated set of chestnut drawers…and then there me, unpolished and rather plain looking.

The carpenter smiled with satisfaction as he carried out the beautiful work of art he had created. When just he and I remained in the shed, I was sure he would now focus all his attention towards polishing my look. I had witnessed his abundant skill and precision as he perfected his work on my friends. I knew what he was capable of crafting, and I wanted to look just as beautiful.

To my utter dismay, the carpenter picked me up, took me outside, and placed me in the middle of nowhere! I was lonely and cold. The gusty winds blew fiercely as the season transitioned from fall to winter.

From my deserted station outdoors, I could see the beautiful chestnut drawers and coffee table through the french doors of the posh house up the street. They looked warm and comfortable in the living room they now called home.

As the days progressed, I often saw people dusting them down periodically, preserving their enviable appeal – a courtesy that was not extended to me. No one dusted the snow or blew the leaves off my back. Nobody offered me an umbrella to shield me from the rain. Perhaps it was because I was not worth much.

“They are so fortunate, so loved and so cared for,” I thought to myself as Christmas approached. So much fuss was made over them as family and friends gathered around with joy and laughter to celebrate the season, and gush over such exquisite taste in furniture.

That was tough for me. No one had ever celebrated me or appreciated my beauty; for it was so far below the surface that no one could see it. Why had the carpenter even bothered to shape me? No one even wanted to be around me, no one found me useful. I was good for nothing, it seemed. Just an old piece of forgotten cedar. He should have just cut me up thrown me into a fire, at least then I would be of some use.

Then summer came around and out came the people in droves to enjoy the warm weather. The air was filled with laughter from children as they played in the sun. Love surrounded me as lovebirds gazed lovingly into one another’s eyes, perched on my lap. Families gathered around and enjoyed picnics in the park I called home.

Then it hit me…

If I had been polished and shined to perfection, I would not have been fit to serve the very people who now found me so useful. Had I been made of pine, I would have lost my insect and decay resistance after being logged – qualities that were crucial to my survival outdoors. I needed to be resilient enough to endure the harsh weather elements in order to be valuable right here in this very moment.

The carpenter felt confident placing me outdoors because he knew I was created with an inborn ability to handle everything I was exposed to. He didn’t polish and shine my surface to perfection because my lack of appeal was actually in line with my purpose.

The things that made me feel worthless turned out to be the very ones that made me undeniably useful. Now I know that everything about me – my background, my experiences, my pain – was specially designed and exactly the way it needed to be for me to fulfill my purpose.