Hello Reader,

Jason Stark has been our newspaper carrier for almost ten years. He would make his early morning rounds by car, delivering our newspaper sometime between 3 and 4am.

The first day we became his customer he included with that day’s newspaper a business card with all his contact information and a note that said if we ever had a problem with getting our paper to give him a call.

He was the most reliable delivery person we ever had. If there happened to be a January blizzard blowing through town the newspaper would send a text saying there’d be a delivery delay because of the weather.

But there was never a delay with Jason. He usually beat the snow plows in making his deliveries. We always got our paper regardless of how much snow was dumped on the city.

The other morning, to my great surprise, an article about Jason appeared in the online version of the newspaper.

The story described how he was killed on his way to work by a reckless 24-year-old motorist.

It was eerie reading about his tragic death in the very newspaper he used to deliver.

The article mentioned he was 50 years old, and showed a photo of him in his college graduation gown. It quoted his mother, anguished over the death of her son who said, “People were probably wondering why they didn’t get their paper that morning.”

I’ve been thinking of Jason the past few days, wondering where in eternity he is now, and once again reflecting on how fragile and temporary life is. It’s like the newspaper he used to deliver.

Today’s newspaper is tomorrow’s history. Once read, it eventually makes its way into the recycle bin and trash – its useful life having come to an end. Jason’s death reminds me of Psalm 103: 15-16

Our days on earth are like grass;
like wildflowers, we bloom and die.
The wind blows, and we are gone—
as though we had never been here.

These words – and Jason’s life – remind me that while our time on earth is brief, we can still bloom in the days given to us. We can create beauty, even in simple things, like being dependable and reliable in completing tasks that serve others.

Until next time, I wish you all the joy that you can wish.*

John Certalic

P.S. If you’ve ever wondered what you can do to help a grieving friend, maybe someone like Jason’s mother, I have a podcast episode you might want to check out, “How to Help a Grieving Friend.”

You Were Made for This is the podcast sponsored by Caring for Others, a missionary care ministry. * The Merchant of Venice, Act III, scene 2