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I know a man who is warm and kind.

Although he's not family, he treats me like blood.

His smile and his laugh lighten every single room we're in together.

He asks more questions than he shares his opinion.

He speaks the truth, but speaks it with confidence as if he's ruled by it,

but also with gentleness. He's professionally successful, but you would probably never know,

unless you asked him. He seems to be ruled by some sort of humility, that you or myself or

whoever is in front of him is more important than he is. He's near to God,

but he's by no means perfect. He's open about his struggle and his life and where his faults are.

He's no facade. He is what you would call virtuous. I know a woman who may or may not be

Miss Jackie. She fits the description. This woman exudes empathy and patience. She never rushes our

time together. Her presence permeates like a sense of peace. I feel at ease when I'm with her.

She often speaks slow and thoughtfully and throws in an occasional joke. She's brilliant. Her

library is full of books, but knowledge isn't just something that exists in her head, it trickles down to her heart.

She's wise. She's quick to confess. She loves Jesus and she's certain that his way is the best way.

She is also what you would describe as virtuous. When I'm with people like that or those people, two things

strike me. One, I leave feeling happy and holy. I leave with a sense of joy that I really can't

put words to. But two, I realize I'm not like them. Like, I'm not built like them. They, they, they, I possess

skills and tactics and resources and gifts, but they possess virtues, like humility,

like the ability to listen, like gentleness, like generosity. I may have the kind of values that give me approval from friends

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