Fragility

Aggie is in bed late tonight, after a day of disappointment and struggle. I marvel at how she can bounce back: she is resilient when she can be. But I cannot help but remember her days of epilepsy, when I laid there with her facing things too much for us to endure.  

My dear, fragile Aggie, how will it go with you?  I remember that you are dust. 

How fragile is this life.  How vulnerable we are to death, destruction, and so many things out of our control.  Devastation and brokenness seem to be everywhere, and they really are, aren't they? We just don't always see it.

I wish I could forget.  I wish it were not so.

I wish that there were no wildfires or hurricanes or cancers or tyr
annies.
Is that the way I will meet my end?  If not, how will it go for me?  I remember all too much that I am dust. 

And my son can't sleep because he's sad about a friend's pet, dying, as all things do. "I don't know why but I just don't feel safe. My thoughts are too big tonight."

It is easy to feel secure in this life when things are normal.  And then suddenly, one quick moment comes, and normal vanishes.  What, then, is left?

There is only one hope for we who are walking dust.  If we have a God, and if He is a forgiving God and a loving God, then all can never be lost.

In Christ, even sinners sleep secure, even dust breathes in life.

As a father has compassion on his children, 

   so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him; 

for he knows how we are formed, 

   he remembers that we are dust.

Psalm 103:13-14