Not the one hundred meter dash, dash of salt, or a mad dash to get in out of the rain. But the dash found in a cemetery. Three months ago, walking down a grassy hill I found myself looking at headstones in the cemetery as a great friend, gone too soon, was laid to rest. The stones tell the name, year born and the year the loved one entered eternity. What isn't mentioned is the life lived. But the small sign used to begin and end numbers, is the most important mark on that headstone. Why does a small mark on a piece of stone give me pause? If the blank had to be filled between the year of my birth and death, what would the words be? Strangely, I think about this everyday. Not in a morbid, fearful way, but a thoughtful, careful way, remembering that each day, each breath, each activity is an opportunity to love God and my neighbor. I confess I am not always successful in what I say, how I have used my time by having a productive day or wasting my time on social media or if I have thought of others, acting on those thoughts rather than ignoring what God was asking me to do today. The dash is a daily gift to look beyond my world and comfort zone and be in tune to what the Lord has for each day He gives. What are you doing with your dash?