The most insignificant

We’re the measure of how we treat the most insignificant person in our  life.

We all make sure other people are aware that we’re a good person.

As though “I’m a good person” replaces the period at the end of a sentence or thought.

In naïveté, as though our assertion that we are a good person should be our “get out of jail free” card when something inconvenient   or unjust occurs in this dissipating thing we label life.

But we, just the same silently scoff at “those virtue signallers”

And we are blind to ourselves. It’s not that we’re a good or bad person.

No blanket. Then what are we without that blanket?

We are the measure of how we treat the most insignificant person in our life. That is who we are.

Maybe it’s beautiful.

Maybe it’s quite ugly.

We can change it if we don’t like what we see.

Grace, that great debtor.