He Remembers That We Are Dust; Do We?

There are times you feel on top of the world,

and then the rest of the time you are just somewhere inside that pile of pumpkins

where there are about three moldy ones that really need to be taken out to the pigs.

 And every once in a while, you remember the Psalmist's prayer,

"Oh, that I had wings of a dove,

 for then would I wander far off and remain in the wilderness."

 You really would like to fly away when Saturday morning comes, complete with its duties of vacuuming, cleaning, scrubbing, cleaning at least some of the refrigerator, trimming plants, sorting winter gear in two closets, and last but not least--dusting.

 It's true the dust does pile up around here, especially with Crystal gone, who usually does the dusting. 

And it's a good thing you can't see the dust on the office desk in front of me.

(Honestly, I'll try to dust as soon as I'm done. Even while I'm uploading pictures, I often am busy sorting receipts, filing papers, opening mail, checking lessons or running around supervising.)

And the dust reminds me of how this verse spoke to me a few days ago,

"For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust."

 God made us from dust, and to dust we will return, and in between, we are all just

a poor little pile of dust, despite how intricately God has made us.

 It doesn't take much, just a flick, and the dust is gone. 

And doesn't God know, that it doesn't take much, just a flick,

and the dusty frame of our humanity is in pieces with things that others say and do,

or that we say and do, 

mistakes we make or physical frailties or accidents or spills or falls or upsets of one sort or another.

He remembers.

Do we?

 Do we remember that while it is good to maintain order and neatness in our home, 

and while it is good to mop the floor and vacuum and sweep and dust and scrub regularly,

we also have a spirit that needs to be maintained?

In a large family, there are always meals to cook, and floors to clean and rooms to straighten,

schoolwork to keep up with, clothes to wash and hang and put away, 

and cornmeal muffins to bake.

 But what about a little bit of lovin'--

not just the rituals at bedtime and when Daddy leaves for work in the morning,

but the spontaneous moments just every once in a while?

What about taking a few moments to join the little ones in the making of an autumn puzzle--

just for a little break?

 Who said it was a sin to take time to put a few more puzzle pieces in?

 He remembers that we are dust--and that for every puzzle we make, there is always a piece missing.

And He still looks after us, the people with all the missing pieces,

and tends and nourishes us and guards us and loves us. 

And so--

do we remember, too, that we are just dust, 

and to take time to breathe,

to love,

to experience the joy of the moment,

and to take time to rest and nourish our spirits?