Neither is the young man in jeans and sneakers who showed up in my chair and stayed until the morning.

St.Carlo Autis who cataloged miracles and kept perfect evidence and showed up beside the beds of dying men in Manchester because you understood that presence is the first form of love.

Pray for the quiet ones, the librarians and the teachers and the helpers who have told themselves they don’t count.

Help them understand what their ordinary days actually looked like from the outside.

And pray for Harold Ashford who has two years left and intends to use them well.

Amen.

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