“To give real service, you must add something which cannot be bought or measured with money, and this is sincerity and integrity." Douglas Adams
The arrow doesn't choose the target, the river doesn't select It's banks. You: the hollow reed through which the wind makes music for other ears. Not for your comfort the calling comes, not for your glory the burden settles on your shoulders like snow. Chosen: to be the conduit, the bridge others cross to reach the far shore You'll never see. Your talents are not your own— loaned tools for work that outlasts the worker. The gift flows through you to where it's needed, leaves you empty as the cup That holds water for the thirsty. Purpose: not self-fulfillment but self-spending, not personal triumph but faithful transmission. The seed dies into the ground So the tree can feed the forest that feeds the world. You are the means, not the end— the servant, not the served.
At least we hope we do…
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