¡°Man ... is of few days, and full of trouble¡± (Job 14:1).
There is nothing very pleasant in the realization that we are not immune to adversity. But it may humble us and prevent our boasting like the psalmist, ¡°I shall never be moved¡±(Psalm 30:6). It may keep us from sinking our roots too deep in this soil since we are soon to be transplanted into the heavenly garden. Let us recall the frail claim we hold on our temporal blessings. If we remember that all the trees of earth are marked for the woodsman's axe, we would not be so ready to build our nests in them. We should love with the love which expects death and separations. Our dear relatives and friends are only loaned to us. The hour when we must return them to the Lender's hand may be near. This is certainly true of our worldly goods. Riches grow their own wings and fly away. Our health is equally precarious. We are like the frail flowers of the field; we cannot expect to bloom forever. There is no single point where we can hope to escape from the sharp arrows of affliction. Our of our few days, there is not one that is secure from sorrow. Man's life is a cask full of bitter wine: he who looks for joy in it would be better off seeking for honey in an ocean of brine. Do not set your affections upon things of earth, but seek those things which are above. Here the moth devours and the thief breaks in to steal, but in heaven all joys are perpetual and eternal.