Thoughts on Withered Grass

J’ai passé comme la fleur.J’ai seché comme l’herbe des champs.

Here's a close-up of the inscription on the cave wall seen in the above painting:

Translated, it means ‘I have withered like the flower. I have dried up like the grass of the fields.’

This painting is huge, taking up most of a wall in the Louvre. I was strangely (ominously?) reminded of it 3 days before the terrible news this past weekend. I'm always gobsmacked at my simultaneous fragile nature and my irrational, subconscious, corporal belief that I will never die.

These verses have been a comfort as I've thought on these things:

The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever. (Isaiah 40:8 ESV)

Since his days are determined, and the number of his months is with you, and you have appointed his limits that he cannot pass, (Job 14:5 ESV)

But I trust in you, O Lord; I say, “You are my God.” My times are in your hand; (Psalm 31:14, 15 ESV)

(Moi, j’ai mis ma confiance en toi, S eigneur ! J’ai dit : Tu es mon Dieu ! Mes temps sont dans ta main; (Psaumes 31:15, 16 NBS))

For [men] will soon fade like the grass and wither like the green herb. (Psalm 37:2 ESV)

Thank you God for reminding me of my vaporous existence and your eternal one!