Kristin Tovar
“Who knows if the human spirit rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth?” So I saw that there is nothing better for a person than to enjoy their work, because that is their lot. For who can bring them to see what will happen after them?”
—Ecclesiastes 3:21-22
Dear friends,
In Ecclesiastes, we get an inside look into Solomon’s journey of wisdom and exploration into the philosophy of human existence. At the end of it all, he reflects on our limited existence as human beings, concluding: We all share the same fate: we will return to dust.
Whether we are enjoying it or not, perhaps depending on the circumstances in our lives or the latest news cycle, we have all been brought into the world at this time and place, to share our precious, overlapping existence.
In The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R Tolkien’s characters discuss their concerns about the events they are facing in their shared time:
“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.
“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
What are we to do with the events of our day that are outside of our control? And how are we to live in light of knowing we will return to dust?
These questions feel weighty; however, I really appreciate Ecclesiastes for proposing these thought-provoking ideas. Well-tended to in our hearts and minds, they can open up new possibilities for how we live in the present.
Solomon realizes that in the midst of injustice, oppression, and mortality, it is the simple pleasures where we will find unending gifts from God. Personally, this is what brings light and hope to my days, especially in seasons that are tiring or challenging.
My own recent journey with health issues has put me in a position of slowing down in a way that makes me look more closely at these simple gifts. It has come in the form of flowers handpicked from a friend’s neighborhood, bringing pops of color to my nightstand. I have seen it in my children who are adapting with gentleness and care as we laugh together and rate the different qualities of their squishy toy collection at bedtime. I have felt care from being with someone without having to say much, the gift of presence.
May we continue to live this precious life as a gift. All we have to do is decide how we will unwrap the Gift with each new day.
In Love,
—Kristin
