Relief. It washed over me. At that moment, the truth of my utter insignificance was a balm to my soul and I wept with gratitude on the 1 train all the way home. (Crying on the 1 train? Classic, I know.)
I am dust. You are dust. We are dust. Life is fleeting and challenging and one day we’re going to die and it’s going to be over and we’ll be dust once more. None of this will matter. Life will go on after me as it did before me. In the beautiful and incomprehensible universe, I happen to exist briefly and in the grand scheme that’s - nothing. Pressure’s off. I am no one. It’s okay.
And yet? And yet - in my heart, I knew God cared. That He was using my tiny little life to make tiny little movements towards His ultimate goal of justice, reconciliation, love. And in that moment, I knew that God was with me in the darkness. Not pulling me out, not providing a merciful quick-fix, but sitting with me in my pain and infusing enough hope in me that things would be better. That He would never abandon me, no matter how much I messed up. That He, too, ached over my pain - that it was never in His plan - but nevertheless He would take all of the broken parts and help me redeem them.
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