09/04/2026
Meditate at Eight: Ponderings
This week has been a scorcher, and it looks like it's going to continue for a while. This is the kind of weather that seems to drain a little more energy from us each day. If there's something to be thankful for, it's that it wasn't this hot and humid when we were without power! I may complain (okay, I do complain), but I appreciate my air conditioning.
And as I was pondering what to write this morning, I found myself drawn to a YouTube video of a young man and his mother singing Slipping Through My Fingers, a song written by ABBA.
The song is usually heard from a parent's perspective. It captures the bittersweet realization that children grow up far more quickly than we ever imagined. One day we're holding their hand, and seemingly the next, they're walking out the door to begin lives of their own.
Time has a way of doing that to us all, parents or not. It slips through our fingers.
But as I watched this particular mother and son singing together, something struck me differently. The mother has Parkinson's disease.
And suddenly, I wasn't hearing the song from the perspective of a parent watching a child grow older. I was hearing it from the perspective of a son watching his mother slowly become someone different from the mother he has always known.
She's still his mother. The love between them is evident as they sit and sing together.
But something is slipping away. The disease is taking pieces of her.
And I suspect many of us understand that feeling. Perhaps it's a parent or spouse whose memory isn't what it used to be. Perhaps it's a loved one whose health is failing. Perhaps it's a friend who can no longer do the things you once did together. Perhaps you see it in yourself.
The passage of time impacts us all. Change is inevitable. And sometimes we find ourselves longing for a moment we didn't realize was precious until it had already passed. Slipping through our fingers. We want to freeze the moment. Hold onto the best of life and relationships. But we can't. Our fingers aren't strong enough to hold everything we love.
But then I'm reminded of something more important:
While so much in life slips through our fingers, we never slip through God's. The Psalmist asks: "Where can I go from your Spirit?" And later he answers: "If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." (Psalm 139:7, 9–10).
What a beautiful promise. There are so many things we can't hold onto. But we are assured that in all things and at all times, God holds onto us. We never slip through the fingers of God.
We don't have to hold everything together. We don't have to stop time. We don't have to carry tomorrow today. We trust the One who is already holding us, and who will never let us go.
Prayer: God, I confess how much I want to hold onto the people, places, moments, and seasons of life that I treasure. Yet I know that life changes, and sometimes things I love slip beyond my grasp. Give me grace to cherish what I have today without being consumed by fear of tomorrow. And when I can't hold on, remind me that you are holding me. Thank you for being the One who never lets go. Amen.
