The Paper Parable

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful piece of stationary.  It was very proud of the way it looked.  Unlike the other paper in its drawer, the stationary was made from finer materials and was of a heavier weight.  A dark border of charcoal black rimmed its page with a second border of thin gold ringing the inside of it.  Three letters, M.S.T., were set in the very middle of the page at the bottom, and the little piece of stationary was sure it was a mark of excellence that declared what a fine paper it was.

But above all the fine borders and exquisite lettering, the Stationary was most proud of the flawless field of white that made up the main body of it.  When the Owner had received his new stationary, the little page watched with satisfaction as the man beamed at the large section of pure white paper.  “He is someone who can appreciate true beauty,” it thought.  “I will sit on his desk, and he will look at me and be happy for years to come.”

But the little piece of stationary did not sit on his desk.  In fact, the man did not look at it very often at all, and when he did, it was with the blank look of a preoccupied mind.  Days stretched into weeks and weeks into months, until the little piece of stationary was quite sure that the man did not truly care about it at all.

Then one spring afternoon, a grubby little hand reached into the drawer and grabbed the beautiful piece of stationary, taking it by complete surprise.  The hand was not gentle or for that matter even clean.  Before the stationary knew what was happening, grime had been smeared across its pure surface, and the very fabric of its being had been creased and crumpled.  The assailant slammed it down hard on the wooden surface of the desk and then pressed a dirty ink pen into its body.  The little piece of stationary screamed as the Owner’s young boy ran the pen all over its surface, leaving cuts and indentions marred by the permanent, black ink.

The torturous time ended quickly enough, and the child put away the horrible pen.  However, in his haste to leave the room, the young man forgot about the Stationary and left it in the middle of the desk.  For the entire afternoon the once beautiful page wept over the eternal scars that it had only begun to endure.  And, it was in this sad state that the Owner found it still atop his table.

“Little Page, what is the matter,” the older man said, with a kindly smile.

“Look at me,” it lamented.  “I am scarred, and stained, and utterly useless now.”

“You are of great use to me,” the Owner replied.

“But my beauty is gone, and I still hurt from the marks pressed into my body,” it persisted.

The owner gently picked up the piece of stationary looking more closely at it.  Softly, he replied, “Little Page, you were never meant to be a blank sheet of paper.  Without marks on your body, you would never have been complete.  Sooner or later this is the end you would have met, though I never imagined such a wonderful outcome.”

“What do you mean,” the stationary asked, as the Owner’s continuing smile melted away its thoughts of pain and ugliness.

The man took a small piece of tape from his drawer and fixed the page to a wall above his desk.  “It is your marks,” he said, “that make you so beautiful to me.  From the time you were created, your body was meant for nothing more than carrying a message, and the message you carry is from my son.  It says, ‘Daddy, I love you.’”

From that point on, the little piece of stationary did it’s best to banish all thoughts of ugliness and unworthiness.  For years to come, it hung in its place of honor, never failing to bring a smile to the Owner’s face.