BUT

    “But” is a simple, unfussy word that sometimes helps me stay humble. When I think I clearly understand something, the word “but” occasionally steps in to show me what I missed. If I say some situation is just what I need, “but” says there are elements in it that I definitely don’t need, as in “You love these fresh cherries, but you don’t need to eat dozens of them.” If I say sorrow has nothing good in it for me, “but” shows me some understanding I can gain from it, as in, “Your loss has brought you sadness, but watch for the wisdom that waits inside it.”  The word “but” scolds me in kindhearted ways: “You think you’re right in this argument, but you see only a small sliver of the truth.” “You think you know what you need, but that’s like saying you know what the Grand Canyon needs.” “You think you know yourself, but yourself is like miles and miles of mountains.”  

     “But” is an unpretentious word, but it always brings me down to size.