“Humble folk do not leave any trace; they are the soil and the ashes on which other edifices, small and great, are erected.”
When I am remembered all turns to dust. The beautiful sculptures of Christ are smashed. In their place I raise the image of myself. How gallant I look! How majestic I am with arm pointing to the world beyond! I am the crusader. I am the leader.
Everything I build decays. All of my adventures are tedious spinning in circles. My arm points only downward. I am a leader simply leading myself down a road that smells of flowers but is covered in defilement.
Let me be forgotten to all but just a small place at the back of the mind of God. And that hidden corner is the place of His grace.