All we are is dust in the wind.
It’s true.
Whether Kansas penned the words or not.
Dust. To dust we’ll return.
By the sweat of your brow you will eat food until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you will return.”
Genesis 3:19
Keck’s been telling me that we’re made of the same stuff as the universe. A universe is within us. A great mystery.
My dad used to joke with us. “See that place over there,” he would say, pointing to a cemetery. “People just die to go there.”
Whatever we’re made of — dust or universe particles — someday I’ll rejoin it.
Someday my bones will be buried in a cemetery or scattered on the wind. I’ll be the dust that holds a tall elm tree in place or worm food.
Dust.
Somehow coming to peace and acceptance of this helps me live. Seek living water. Drink deeply from the fountain of life. After all, nothing is promised. Today. Only this moment. Only right now.
It’s one of the principles of Lent — to remember. God is God. And, I am not. ❤
TotallyKris 