Just another accident statistic

I had a woman down in Alabama
She was a backwoods girl, but she sure was realistic
She said, “Boy, without a doubt
Have to quit your mess and straighten out
You could die down here, be just another accident statistic”
(Slow train coming -Bob Dylan)
When I think about all the nameless, faceless people who populate the world  (who are not nameless or faceless to some people), I ask myself the question. When does one of those people rise up in myconsciousness as a personality? Is it true that a person can only be a stanger to me in the past, because having met them they can in one sense never be a stranger again, although our acquaintance may be fleeting and shallow.

The difficulties tend to arise a bit nearer to home, when I forget a name I should remember or someone says "remember me?" and I don't. How small my world is! How can I care for people I don't know, love people I have never met when I am struggling with those already in the frame?

The answer is simple. When ever I get the opportunity especially with those closest to me I must surpass myself. How many people are polite to strangers but off hand with those "closest" to them? The acts of grace towards those who I love the most but also who at times frustrate me most, reveal my imperfections most and generally have a well honed skill in pushing all the wrong buttons in me are the acts which must, for me, define real love.
I have often wondered why Jesus only chose 12. Was it because it was all he could cope with or was it because he knew that it was all his disciples could cope with. Folk can be very annoying even if they are in company with the son of God.
Gold is purified in the furnace thereafter it is pure gold. I can love all men because I have been purified in the furnace of close relationships not because I have the spirit of a great benefactor (which I havn't).