Treasure in Jars of Clay
Rita Costigan | Reading: 2 Corinthians 4:7-10
I remember the first time I read the poem “The Dash”—it was at a funeral, of course. I was 10 years old, sitting in the back of the church. I watched as a long line of greeters wound around the side aisle, out the door, and stretched two blocks down the street. What was originally scheduled as a four-hour viewing turned into seven hours on the first night, and six hours on the second. Having had my fill of cookies, and tired of running around with my cousins, I sat down and read my grandfather’s funeral service booklet.
Knowing what I know now, I realize that such a turnout isn’t always typical for someone whose career was defined by numbers and shoe boxes of receipts. But my grandfather was much more than an accountant. He opened his home to many people from all walks of life, considering them family. He welcomed newcomers from Ireland, people who arrived with nothing but the clothes on their backs, offering them a room and meals until they got up on their feet.
When life feels overwhelming, I try to shift the lens through which I view a situation. I think back to my grandfather and all the good he did, and I think back to that poem. Am I using my gifts to help or hinder others? Am I working to foster a community of kindness and compassion?
How are you living your dash?
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