Mystery and meaning

‘how fortunate are you and i, whose home
is timelessness: we who have wandered down 
from fragrant mountains of eternal now
to frolic in such mysteries as birth 
and death each a day (or maybe even less)’
~ee cummings
I don’t pretend to understand the mysteries of birth and death. All I know is that we are made to pass through each one. We are made to be born, to die and to be re-born into a life eternal with Christ. Last Wednesday, my father in law passed from life to death to life eternal. And even in the mystery and grief that surround this place, I know that he lives on. 
My husband says that we measure life in moments. I know this is true, that we measure in moments and vapors and breaths, but I like to think that we measure in meaning too. My life is small. I am breath in dust, but I believe my moments matter. My father in law didn’t wait until he received a diagnosis to live small moments with great love. This too is part of the mystery. The small becomes great, and the moments carry meaning, and the earthly becomes eternal. And our loss is heaven’s gain.