BLACKBOARDS AND BLESSINGS
The Parable of the Many Hearts
There once was a teacher who taught not from the front of the room,
but from within the wonder of it.
He did not begin with charts or classifications,
but with a single question:
“What makes a heart?”
He led his students through the unseen world of the amoeba,
where life flowed without vessels,
then to the fish with its simple, pulsing rhythm—
two chambers, just enough.
He showed them the frog’s three-chambered heart,
balanced between water and land,
and then the complex, four-chambered marvel within their own chests.
Each heart, different.
Each heart, complete.
They journeyed next through lungs and skin, gills and spiracles.
Each breath, each beat, each structure,
not signs of randomness or accident—
but of an Artist unafraid of variety,
a Designer who never repeats without reason.
The students began to see:
Creation was not a ladder,
but a symphony.
Each creature played its part with precision,
from the single cell to the human soul.
Years later, when some would ask if life had purpose,
a few students would remember that classroom—
and the quiet reverence of learning that diversity was not disorder,
but design.
They would remember the teacher
who taught them that the heart of biology
was, in fact, the biology of the heart.
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