I was hatched, punched, pressed and molded into existence along with thousands of other staplers on that day. Packed, shipped and ready to serve, I waited in a cold warehouse. My friends told me not to get too excited because staplers have a short life span. As soon as we jam once our owner is likely to replace us. So here I am, sitting alone and neglected. It was exciting at first being able to perform flawlessly time after time. I felt important and of value in an office dedicated to productivity. I was a part of something larger than myself and I went to sleep each night satisfied with an honest day's work.
Then one day I was moved aside. It was incomprehensible to think that I was not doing my job. I was more consistent than any other item in the office, especially that copier! But here it came. With batteries. An electric version of myself which only required one hand to operate. Simply slide in the papers and a sensor triggered the stapler to fire. How efficient! I will admit that I was envious, even jealous. It was difficult to be bypassed by a younger, better version of myself. And to watch it from afar on top of the file cabinet when I used to sit prominently front and center on the desk! What do they all think of me now that I am obsolete? Do they know how I feel? Or that I feel? I have not changed at all. I can still do all I have ever done. Yet my usefulness has expired. Sigh.
So I tell you, my friends, we never know our fate as we step into our existence. All we can be is ourselves. To do what we came to do to the best of our ability, regardless of the value others see in us is sufficient. Hold your head high and know that you were created in as perfect a light as all others. And if you feel your light dim, step out of the shadows and shine. As long as you exist, you matter.
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