In short, the scraps are made obsolete. Some would say pointless, but I'd disagree. Without the scraps, a finished product would likely have a completely different look. For example, a scene may be removed from a book because it's not working well, but having that scene in at first was crucial to the writer to get to the next point. It served as a stepping stone that guided imagination and direction.
Ultimately, our life is one product. When we die, the production stops and we're finished. No more editing. No more revising. It's just us, shipped out to Quality Inspection. And this train of thought has me thinking about the scraps in our lives. What kind of stuff is left on our drawing boards? How many unfinished stories have I written, now sitting idly in a Google Docs warehouse. How many plans were made and discarded? And how in the world is this relevant?
What has put me in this mindset? I found a poem I scribbled down a while ago, just eight lines. An unfinished thing if there e'er was one. The first stanza I was insanely proud of. Clever, methought. Double meanings and all that stuff. The second...
in love she fell with a rogue
whose blood was far below hers,
dashed across the jagged rocks
his bowels burst asunder.
ocean's song, an elegy,
the waves a gentle death tune.
she died from an angry blade
wielded by her father.
And there it sat. There's editing needed. There's always editing needed. In life. In stories. In paintings. In blog posts. We're so concerned about perfection and passing the Quality Control test that we cheat ourselves of so much. It doesn't help that Society screams for independence and self-reliance. We must be strong citizens. We must be productive.
And yet, I posit that most of us aren't able to cut it at being independent. Not truly. Still, we desire independence and selfness. The dichotomy is fascinating. On one hand, our base instincts are for self-preservation and self-happiness. We want our opinions to be valued, likely above all others. We want to be noticed. We want to be special. On the other hand, we can't handle the stress of being the sole responsibility of our opinions, and we want others to share that burden. How selfish is that? How crazy?
I think of God saying in Genesis 2:18 that it's not good for man to be alone. Obviously loneliness is a problem if the Creator thinks it is. But why? Why is it not good? (And again, why are my thoughts turned this way?) Is Man, when left alone, ultimately going to turn to evil?
[insert clever paragraph that relates scraps and these musings above in a nice, succinct way. this is a strong first sentence here that uses a nice, simple transition and lays the ground for the next sentence. this is a complex sentence, with six subjects that all agree with their predicates. this is a question where i try to understand the previous sentence. this is a parenthetical, cause why not? this is the most important sentence i've ever written in my life and what everything really boils down to. this is an emoticon.]
In the end, this is too much for me to comprehend. My life is infinitely more complex than I can fathom, with countless causes and effects, affecting both me and you, directly or indirectly. I'm just thankful that I've been blessed with a loving wife and daughter, a wonderful family, and a great set of friends. Most of all I'm thankful that Jesus loves me and understands all this stuff I don't. I'm thankful for the brain He's given me, even though sometimes I wonder about myself.
When I die and reach the end of production, I want my life to be one that glorifies God. I want all the scraps to resonate with that glory, that I can look back and see how much He's changed me. I look back now and see some already, and I look ahead with wonder at what He's gonna do next.