Lawn care, of all things, has given me perspective. An unwanted glimpse down an insanely steep slope, to be exact. Rope in hand, tied to mower, my terrified, gloved self holding on for dear life. My second attempt may have involved taking pictures for the lawn service we’re hiring.
So it is that I’ve become that person who pays attention to grass. The way it is mowed. The pattern, the cut, the little twigs barely missed by the blade. How quickly it grows. How frail it is. How it dies.
My body is much the same. Like withering grass, my body is quickly perishing. Not because I live with chronic pain and unusual weakness, but because I’m human. My frail form has but a season to live, and then it will be gone.
And much like the birthday roses which so briefly grace my table, any physical beauty I’ve been granted will fade with me. All the workouts, diets, stylish clothing, makeovers . . . none can stop the cruel reality that is aging and death.
Yet, in such a glorious, stark contrast to the wilting of plants and decaying of bodies stands the ageless, enduring, abiding, never-ending Word of God.
All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.
[image credit: unsplash.com]