Miniscule, yet pivotal, pieces

Last night I had one of those restless nights where I just laid in bed for hours, never getting tired, never being able to shut my mind off. I even tried all of my techniques—I listened to music, I counted, I played movies in my head, I imagined sending everything I was thinking about to Outer Space, I kept telling myself I was tired—and all I got for my efforts was two hours of restlessness. So finally, I hopped out of bed, took a bathroom break, grabbed a blanket, and stepped outside.

I try to take advantage of my summer nights as often as I can by stargazing, whether I am lying on the trampoline in our backyard or camping under the stars. However, last night was not a good night for stargazing. For one, the moon was blindingly bright—probably one of the reasons why I couldn't sleep—and second, I didn't bother to put my glasses on so I could only see a few of the brightest stars anyway (at least, the ones that weren't being overshadowed by the flaunting moon).

However, usually when I stargaze, I am struck by just how vast and awesome this universe is. Our little world is just one small part of God's universe—there is so much out there that our little brains simply can't handle the vastness. It is no wonder the Book of Mormon tells us that we are the dust of the earth—compared to all that God has created, we are nothing.

And yet, when I look at the stars, I don't feel insignificant; in fact, I feel empowered. We humans may be small and helpless in the grand scheme of things, but we can still accomplish much. We are the tiny, pivotal pieces that make up the grand plan.

On Saturday my family went to my dad's work party up at Sundance. We finished off the evening with an entertaining concert put on by Ryan Shupe and his Rubber Band. As we laughed, cheered, and sang along, I was struck by just how diverse we humans are. There were those in the crowd who reveled in the noise and became more energized as the night wore on. Others were content to sit back and watch without participating much. Some weren't really sure which side to be on, and spent a considerable time just watching how everyone else reacted. And some were too busy throwing rocks to really know what was going on.

Both in and outside our little party, there were lawyers, doctors, writers, teachers, musicians, mechanics, and designers. Some of those people were hilarious comedians, some were good conversationalists, others good listeners. Others were physically or spiritually strong, still others were self-confident and kind. So many different talents and character traits, so much potential for good. It's amazing the order in which the world is run: we have just the right amount of leaders and followers to keep this world running smoothly, yet we aren't forced into doing anything. We act based on what we feel, and somehow, this world is still intact.

Each of us is so different; we need those differences not only for our survival but also for our happiness. A little bit of variety can go a long way in making a person's life complete. The stars may be grand and inspiring, but it's the little things—the dancing comedians and the rock-throwing toddlers—that make up the grand picture.