A snowflake falls in late winter,
Melts into a raindrop by early spring,
and evaporates into nothing by mid-summer.
That drop of water floats in a cloud all throughout autumn.



A child sees a snowflake.
They say it’s unique from all its brethren,
but to the boy, they’re all just as beautiful.

He looks in the frozen pond,
pausing to take in his distorted reflection.
Even with the misshapen ice bending his face,
he believed himself a monstrosity of the human race.

The memory of the individualistic snowflake,
it’d already slipped his mind.
However misshapen the snowflake was in its own thoughts,
it was thing of beauty to the boy.


As the snowflake is to man,
man is to God.


The child skips along a crowded sidewalk,
rain pouring from the sky.
He sprints to the taxi door his mother holds open for him,
comfortably placing himself in the seat.
He glances out of the window,
admiring the imaginary race of the raindrops.
One seems to move slower than the rest,
so, he wills it onward.
Almost instantly,
whether by luck,
or some telepathic ability unbeknownst to man,
the raindrop falls past the rest,
apparently winning the ‘race.’


As the child willed the raindrop,
God wills man.


The child struggles in school the next year.
“He seems to be a bit sluggish compared to the rest of the class,”
says the teacher, as the mother stares out of the window.
“Perhaps he would be more at home in a specialty class, next year?”
The mother, however, refuses the offer.
“My son may not match the abilities of your other students,
but he is not stupid, nor is he ignorant.
Your confidence in him is about as solid as water vapor, that is obvious.
Mine, however, will not be carried off by the wind,
and certainly not by the putrid breeze that comes from your mouth.
He will make it.
He will.”

The teacher’s confidence had evaporated,
like a puddle of rainwater.
Yet, the mother knew different.
She had faith in her child,
that he would come around.


As the mother believed in her child,
God believes in His children.


Years passed the boy by,
he had become a man.
He’d gone to college,
and he’d become a world-famous surgeon,
despite the doubts of his teacher so long ago.
After he retired, he went back to school,
becoming a teacher for kids with special needs.
One day, he took his class outside.
He told them this story.
As they all stared up at the clouds,
longing to float away with them,
he spoke these words:

“The cloud contains a multitude of water drops.
Each has its own story,
and each is different from the rest.
Some are slower than others,
when they plummet to Earth;
sitting at the summit of the cloud,
waiting for someone to push them along.
Some are bigger, some are smaller.
As I said, they are all different.
Yet, they are all beautiful.
They have the potential to form into a glistening snowflake,
as majestic as they can be.
You are all drops of water in this cloud we call Earth.
You’re all waiting at the top,
and I'm going to push you forward.”


As the cloud was cherished by the class,
we are cherished by God.