The Grass Does Die

I've spent my whole adult life trying to build something that lasts. Career accomplishments, retirement accounts, a reputation for excellence. I wanted to be remembered as someone who mattered.

Then I watched my father, who was a successful executive, develop dementia. Everything he'd built - his reputation, his knowledge, his sense of self - just evaporated into the mist. People who'd been grateful for his mentorship stopped calling. His legacy didn't matter to the disease.

Peter's image of grass withering and flowers fading hits different when you've watched it happen to someone you love. We're all temporary. Our careers are temporary. Our influence is temporary. That's not depressing to me anymore - it's freeing.

I stepped down from an executive role last year to do less prestigious work that mattered more to my actual community. I spend more time with my father, even though he mostly doesn't recognize me. I'm teaching my kids to value people over accomplishments. I'm learning the actual message Peter's trying to convey: the grass dies, but God's word endures. So maybe invest in things that endure?