I was a pebble, small but strong.
From where I sat, I clearly saw my place, and
those around me knew me, as I did them—
as light as song and as sure as breath.
It was community,
a fixed place in a wide world of opportunities.
But time went on, moment after day after year, and the view widened ever more.
It became harder to see the edges as light blurred.
Waves beat and wind blew.
Some pebbles shifted right and left, front and back, up and down, and soon
familiar was a memory and
distance seemed farther away.
Did I get smaller and smaller, or did context get bigger and bigger?
The bigger has swallowed me up—my pebble self is a grain, unimportant and invisible in this big, wide world. And I thought all along I mattered.
Maybe I was never important.
Maybe there never was a mission, because for now I have become a mere placeholder that no one sees anymore.
I am but a breath—a grain of shifting sand, a whisper on the wind, a phantom in the land. Show me, oh my Lord . . .
Psalm 39:4-7 (NIV)
4 “Show me, Lord, my life’s end
and the number of my days;
let me know how fleeting my life is.
5 You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Everyone is but a breath,
even those who seem secure.
6 “Surely everyone goes around like a mere phantom;
in vain they rush about, heaping up wealth
without knowing whose it will finally be.
7 “But now, Lord, what do I look for?
My hope is in you.
Teach us to number our days,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom.