my careless contagion

Warning! This is a long post but worth it. Before I begin, let me say a few words. No one knows who wrote this. I will explain what it means to me at the end.  Judge Gently  Pray don't find fault with the man who limps or stumbles along the road, unless you have worn the shoes he wears, or struggled beneath his load, there may be tacks in his shoes that hurt, though hidden away from view, or the burden he bears, placed on your back, might cause you to stumble, too. Don't sneer at the man who's down today, unless you have felt the blow that caused his fall or felt the shame that only the fallen know. You may be strong; but still the blows that were his, if dealt to you in the selfsame way, at the selfsame time, might cause you to stagger, too. Don't be too harsh with the man who sins, or pelt him with word or stone, unless you are sure, yea doubly sure, that you have no sins of your own; for you know, perhaps if the tempter's voice should whisper as softly to you as ...

Some big news is coming which I've been laboring over. Stay tuned. Hang onto your hats! I know, you wait with bated breath.  *** I knew a girl. She was made of something I had never seen. I wonder how many others knew her secret. Did they see what she was made of, or something else? Did they understand what they were looking at was rare and perfect and beautiful or did they see the package it came in, which was also quite compelling?  I knew she was made of something better. I always knew. I secretly admired her most of my life. The last few years it was out in the open. Maybe it scared her, knowing a man saw her that way, but it wasn't anything to fear. I was always the most harmless and gentle man, even more so with her. I never once meant her any harm. If she could have seen my heart, she would have known she could trust me.  She knew I saw her as precious and beautiful. I saw what God did in her heart. I loved her greatly. She cared how I saw her, and, unfortunately, ...

In 41 years, I have accomplished very little of lasting importance. I haven't amassed a large amount of money. I've built no grand estate. I have a handful of friends I don't talk to. My family is basically estranged. Or I wish they would be. I've made no career for myself. I have no laurels to rest on. In short, I'm a failure. There's one thing I have done, though. I have loved big. Let them put that on my tombstone. As big as I loved, it wasn't enough, which is a puzzlement. It was like pouring a bucket of water on a vast desert. Simply not enough.  In spite of the ineffectiveness, it's perhaps the only thing I'm good at. I love big. I love hard. That's the way love should be. No, I'm not making a dirty joke. But love should have dimensions to it, a magnitude, a power. You should be able to feel it move from one chest to another like a force. It should be kind and gentle but should make itself known. Love is the one thing I...