How do we know when we are loved? Is it that look of acceptance, a smile and warm embrace? Or is it when someone buys us crap we don’t need or lets us have our own way? The ultimate expression of love has to be taking a bullet for someone, losing your life so someone else can live. You know, the Jesus way. A heroic stranger sacrifices her own life to save that of a child about to be struck down by a wayward semi. Our heroine just gave the child what potential time on earth she had left so that the kid could have more. Minus the potential pain, dying for someone is giving them lots of potential time. When we share our time, is this not the pinnacle of human sacrifice?
Time lets us know that we are loved. In periods of isolation or sadness when someone shares their time, it doesn’t just mean a lot-- it means everything. The only thing I have any control over is what I do in this fleeting moment. Time, my most valuable possession is quite possibly my only real possession. (Excerpt from Wisdom Chaser).



