Tonight I ought to be doing homework. (Technically, I am, because it's the thought that counts, and I've been thinking about homework for more than thirty minutes now.)

But tonight something else happened, too. It was profound, in a small, insignificant sort of way. You see, we have a box of oreo cookies sitting on top of one of our dressers here in the dorm room. Occasionally my roommates and I don't eat them, despite the fact that they are very much there--and we feel proud of ourselves in those moments for our tremendous exhibition of self-control. At other times, however, we do eat them--and we rejoice in the fact that mankind has discovered the toxic process of extracting unhealthy sweet substances from sugar cane and corn products in order to pollute the world of food with substances which are both deleterious and delicious.

Tonight I opted out of having self-control, and having thus purposed to myself to indulge in a circlet of chocolatey greasy sweetness, I opened the top of the oreo box and pulled out a cookie. Only this cookie was unlike any oreo that I have ever seen. It was subtle, but definitely there.

Every oreo has an Oreo imprint on both the top and the bottom of the round black crunchy sections, as everyone knows, because someone decided long ago in a faraway factory that people would enjoy oreos just that much more if they happened to have little ridges all over them. Which apparently, people do.

However, with this particular oreo, one side was perfectly smooth...like the inside of the cookie is supposed to be, if you happen to be one of those individuals who opens your oreos to scrape out that weird greasy sickeningly-sweet white stuff in the middle (I used to do that, I confess, but I've matured since then).

And that's when I realized that somebody, somewhere, had gotten distracted during their long day at work...and they'd flipped the top of the oreo so the wrong side was up. Only I'm ok with smooth, so I wasn't sure I considered it wrong at all...just different.

I sat there staring at this oreo in silent wonder, thinking about the process of making these cookies (a process which has most likely been outsourced to India by now) and wondering about the cute little woman who doubtless was daydreaming about her wee kiddos back at home and thus accidentally inverted an oreo.

Or maybe it was a socially deviant teenager who wanted some cookie-eating person somewhere to receive a subtle message that would tell them it was ok to be different, to stand out from the crowd.

However that may be, as I sat there holding this cookie, I was reminded of the fact that life is kind of like a box of oreos. All the days look more or less alike from our vantage point...an endless series, kind of like the brown circles that stretch on in neat little rows inside of an oreo box. But, just like the cookie in my hand, each day has something unique, special, and memorable to offer to the person who takes just a moment to consider what exactly it is that makes this day special.

I stood a moment longer, mouth watering over the faint chocolatey scent of the cookie, mentally wandering back through my day. There had been a lot of people in it. There were the hundreds of people walking down the sidewalks as I was on my way to class this morning, most of whom I didn't know...but many of whom had smiled back and exchanged a friendly good morning. (I love America. People smile here. They wave. They say hi. So friendly. Just amazing! It's beautiful. Warms my heart every time).

There were the myriad classmates...many of whom I do know...with whom all manner of meaningful or simply psychotic conversations had taken place that morning. I had taken part in discussions on everything from the destructive powers of racism to the unfortunate nature of the fact that earthworms are so stupid that they inevitably come rushing to the surface to breathe during rainstorms and then end up drowning in mud puddles despite their best efforts at survival. (What can I say? Stinks to have no brain. Fail!)

There were the teachers, some of whom earnestly desire for us to learn many deep. profound, and life-changing truths, and some of whom merely earnestly desire for the day to come in which their students will stop asking inane questions.

But throughout that whole day, no two people interactions had been exactly alike, as far as I could recall. And no two of them had been exactly like any two that had taken place any other day in the past...presumably because no two people are exactly alike, and on top of that, every person is a little different today than he was yesterday.

And as I ate my unique oreo with great relish, I marveled over the fact that our lives are, in truth, remarkably complex, no matter how simple they may appear from the outside, for mankind himself, in the very essence of his person, is inimitably intricate and complex beyond our human capacity to fully know. And there are millions of such people on our planet, several of whom we brush shoulders with on a daily basis.

I wiped some brown crumbs off the dresser top, thinking solemnly of how little we understand the incredible treasure of human intellect and personality to which we are exposed hourly. Behind every smiling face is a broken person yearning to be fully known, mercifully cared for, unconditionally loved, and completely accepted. But so often, when I witness the seemingly endless streams of humanity around me, I fail to look for the uniqueness of each individual. I see just another long row of oreos--identical, uninteresting, not worth my time.

As I pack my bag to head to the gym, I am reminded of what an incredibly gracious thing it is that God searches the depths of every single human heart...that He cares enough to know details...to know (and care about) the subtle differences between all the human oreos in all the boxes in all places throughout all time. Wow.

May God give us the character to be people who notice the details and care.

And may God give me the self-control to break a rapidly-forming oreo addiction. Oops.