The Good Fortune of Stewardship
What greater throne is there
than the altar of care?
Here, devotion is not a crown
but a covenant,
forged in the quiet hours
when no one else is watching.
To tend, to witness, to keep—
this is the holiest inheritance.
Not dominion, not conquest,
but the steady guardianship of what is fragile,
what is fleeting,
what is endlessly worth the weight of both hands.
The good fortune of stewardship
is a sun that refuses to set—
burning close enough to sear and sanctify,
forty kilometres from the earth,
pouring radiance over everything it touches.
What greater privilege could there be
than to give the whole of oneself
to the keeping of another life?
What higher calling
than to be trusted with the heartbeat of the world,
to hold it gently,
to never let it fall?
And so I kneel before this altar,
not bowed by burden,
but lifted—
a soul crowned not with jewels,
but with the dazzling,
unfathomable light
of love lived as service.
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