The restaurant supplied the jar of bubbles and the father provided the wind for the soapy orbs. In a gentle stream the bubbles floated across the table toward the sweetest little girl. As she reached out for them one giant bubble settled safely on the back of her hand. The rays of sunlight coming through the window polished its swirled reds and greens. Expressing glee she reached out with her other hand to stroke it and—BAM! It was gone. It was so pretty, so ephemeral.
Jesus touched on this theme in the Sermon on the Mount. He said, “See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?” Matt. 6: 28-30.
When we are ten years old a year is a lifetime. When we are 30 a year is a year. When we are 50 a year is a month. It does not take a Philadelphia lawyer to realize life is as ephemeral as a bubble sitting on the back of a little girl’s hand. Bam! It is gone. And how will we have lived it?
Written September 24,2002